


They Come In Grief

by TheKnittingLady



Series: Time Trap [1]
Category: Criminal Minds, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 13:50:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 24,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKnittingLady/pseuds/TheKnittingLady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His first encounter was not what he imagined it would be</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It is the unknown that excites the ardor of scholars
> 
> \- Wallace Stevens

The stories never warned you about this part.

They always came in peace, in the hopes of elevating the consciousness of mankind, of somehow teaching us a grand lesson to bring us up to the next level of evolution. Or they came in pursuit of pure science and discovery. Or else they came to take, to conquer, the ultimate enemy to be fought, and eventually defeated.

Spencer Reid always felt that no matter how much he studied, no matter what he experienced, when they came he might not be up to the task of welcoming them to our time and place.

But in the stories they never came like this.

As the desert chill steeped into his bones, Spencer realized he had been ready all along.

* * *

**BAU headquarters  
Quantico, VA**

**Garcia**

"Directory of all things knowable and unknowable, speak and be recognized."

"Garcia?"

Penelope Garcia smiled into the phone. "Hey Genius Man, how's the vacation going? See any interesting stars out there?"

"Yeah, um, a lot. Um, is Hotch available?"

"Nope, he's off at a conference. He ought to be back tomorrow though."

"Oh, um, okay. Could you tell him that I changed my mind? I'm, um, going to take the full two weeks after all."

Garcia chuckled. With Emily moving to London, JJ off on her honeymoon and Rossi off on his annual book tour Hotch had taken the unprecedented move of standing down the team for a solid month. He said they were too shorthanded to be of any use anyway and so insisted everyone take the opportunity to take vacation time. Morgan was off visiting his family in Chicago and after that was planning to spend some time someplace tropical, even Hotch himself was planning on taking Jack for some Disney time, but they hadn't been able to talk Reid into more than a long week-end visiting his Mother and doing some star-gazing out in the desert. But something changed his mind. "What, did you meet a girl?" The pause on the other end of the line was too tense and went on too long. She gasped and giggled. "You did meet a girl! Tell me, what's she like?"

"Garcia…."

"Oh, all right. But you have to tell me when you get back." Oh the gossip she would have for JJ later. "Go, have fun. I'll let the boss man know."

"Thank you Garcia. You're wonderful."

"Yes, I know. Wonderful out!"

 


	2. Chapter 2

Spencer had been gone far too long. He should have expected this. He should have known this would happen. He had been almost expecting this all of his life, he should have known.

The problem was that he didn't know what to tell her. He didn't know what they knew or how they knew. But he knew they would be after her, that much was in all of the books. He already hated that he had to scare her. He already knew that she had been through enough. He knew that she was still in shock, that she had had exactly no time to heal. It wasn't fair, he thought, but then it was never fair.

He let himself into the room where she was sitting, staring out into the night. "It's never dark here, is it?" She asked him.

"No, not in Vegas; did you eat?"

"I miss the darkness." She sighed. "No, I didn't know how to get food to come."

"I'm sorry." He was, for everything. "We have to go." He started packing, there was no time. "We'll get something on the way."

She picked up on his hurry and turned away from the window. "Why do we have to go?"

"They're after you. They know you're in Vegas."

"Who?"

"Our government."

She turned pale, but immediately stood and started throwing things into the bags he'd bought her. "But why? How?"

"I don't know. I'm taking you someplace safe."

She kept packing, moving, but she was running on auto, her mind clearly not there. She stopped, faced him finally. "If they find me they'll kill me." She informed him. "They'll kill you too. Or they'll capture us both. I…I can't put you at risk like that. You've done too much already."

"No they won't." He replied. "We'll be fine."

She let out a frustrated sigh. "You don't know that."

"Yes I do."

"You don't know that!" She came around the bed and grabbed his arm. "I won't have someone else die or go crazy because of me!"

He gently took her shoulders and held her there. "I'm not going crazy, I know that. And no one is going to die. The government does things like this in a specific order, one step after another. Now I've lived that order and I know how these people think, I can stay ahead of them. We're going to get out of here and go someplace safe and then we'll sit down with my friends and decide what to do next."

"Where?"

He took a deep breath and managed a smile, "Home."

**FBI Headquarters**  
Sensitive Compartmentalized Information Facility (SCIF)  
Quantico, VA

**Hotch**

Coming back from a two-day conference and being told that Director Strauss wants to see you right away was never a good sign, Hotch thought. Being told that she wanted to see you in the SCIF was worse. "Director," he nodded politely as he came in the door. "You needed to see me?"

"Agent Hotchner," Strauss turned to the man sitting next to her, clearly the head of the delegation. "Director, this is SSA Aaron Hotchner, head of the BAU unit. Agent Hotchner, this is Director Julius Snowe, from Homeland Security."

"Director," Hotch shook hands and all that.

"It appears Director Snowe has a problem, he needs our help." Strauss went on.

"Of course," helping other agencies was a big part of what the BAU did after all. If they needed a profile this quickly it had to be some kind of immediate threat. "I should warn you, if this is urgent it might be a problem, most of my staff is out this week."

"Your staff is what I'm here to discuss Agent Hotchner." Director Snowe opened the file in front of him. "I need to know about a Doctor Spencer Reid."

* * *

**Garcia**

The entire office was buzzing with curiosity about what was going on. Everyone was asking Garcia, of course, but she didn't say anything. Even if she could she wouldn't have, not until she was sure it wasn't something bad involving her team. And the moment Hotch walked into the bullpen she knew it could not be good. "Garcia, I need you to get a hold of Morgan and Rossi, and I need you to do so in the most untraceable way possible."

Nope, this could not be good. "Yes, sir, and who is not tracing this?"

"Homeland Security."

Garcia stopped in mid-flight, turned and looked at him. "Are you serious?" Homeland Security could dip into any other agency if they felt that the internal security of the United States was threatened. They had access to every resource out there. Having them involved made this a whole new level of big time.

"I'm afraid so. And before you ask I do not know what's going on. They didn't offer any clues."

"Okay, so what's the message?'

"Get to Vegas and find Reid before they do."

Garcia swallowed. Oh boy.

**Star Motel  
Las Vegas, NV**

**Spencer**

"I'm sorry." Spencer said the night before as they settled in the barely clean, truly decrepit motel room. "I know it's not the best but the manager took cash and didn't ask for ID. They won't find us tonight." He put the box of fried chicken on the table and debated drawing his gun to keep the inevitable roaches away before they had a chance to eat.

"I'm guessing this isn't home." She murmured as she climbed onto the only bed.

He chuckled. "Not even close. No, tomorrow we'll head out. We have to make a few stops along the way but we'll get there." He pulled the chair closer to the bed, enough to prop his feet and kind of recline back. Comfortable enough, he decided.

She looked at him for a few minutes. "Tell me you're not going to sleep there."

He opened an eye and looked at her. "I don't even trust my sleeping bag on this floor."

"You can share the bed with me tonight." He just looked at her a long moment. "You're not going to try anything, I know that."

Well, he wouldn't. Given the situation he took her up on her offer after dinner, planning to stay strictly on his side of the bed. Which was why he was shocked later when she curled right up behind him, draping an arm over him. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to keep the nightmares away," she told him. "You don't smell right though."

"What do I smell like?"

He felt her breath against the back of his neck, felt himself stir a bit in response. "Parchment and sage," she informed him.

"What should I smell like?"

"Bread," with that she rolled away.

 


	3. Chapter 3

"Why are you helping me?" She asked as he got back in the car.

"It's what I do." Spencer answered too quickly.

"Bullshit. You're a Peacekeeper. You should turn me over to the government." She looked out the window as he eased into traffic. "So why are we running from them instead?"

Somehow he couldn't come up with a decent lie just then. "Because I've waited my whole life for you. I dreamed about you."

"Me?"

"Well, for someone like you. I just didn't….I didn't think it would be like this." I didn't think you would be like this, he thought.

There was a pause, and then she spoke. "I've been told I don't know the effect I can have on people." She said it with something that was almost intended to be humor.

He felt himself flushing. "It's not that," except it was. "You're a victim, you need help. You don't deserve to be locked up somewhere, you're not a threat."

She was quiet a long moment more. "I think certain people would disagree with you on that." She said at last.

"Why is that?"

"I'm a murderer, for one thing."

They came to a stoplight and he turned and looked at her, going over every observation he had made so far.

"I am." She told him. "I've killed people, I admit it."

"I believe you." He said at last. "I just know you must have had a good reason.

She looked back at him, curious. "How do you know?"

"Because if there's one thing I know it's serial killers. Murderers. And you're not."

The light changed and they drove for a time. Eventually she spoke up again. "They were trying to kill me." She admitted. "I didn't have any other option."

"See." He replied. "Good reason." He drove a little more. "I've had to do that too."

She looked over at him, assessing. "Oh." A few more miles went by. "How many?"

"Three. You?"

"Five." She watched the road again. "Do you dream about them?"

Phillip Doud, Tobias Hankel and Chloe Donaghy, "Every night," he confessed.

More miles went by before he heard her. "All right then."

They were quiet for a long time after that.

**The Signature at the MGM Grand  
Las Vegas, NV**

**Morgan**

Morgan found Rossi waiting in the lobby. "When the full security apparatus of the United States decides to unfold its wings and descend there is no getting ahead of them." Rossi pointed out as he approached.

"So Homeland is already here?" Morgan asked.

"Come and gone. They were done here before they even met with Hotch back at HQ. Come on, I already have his room key."

They headed up the tower. "If they're already ahead of us, then why are we here?" Morgan asked.

"Ahead does not mean close." Rossi replied. "Look at who they're chasing."

"Good point." 187 IQ, spent his entire life getting into the minds of some of the greatest criminals, if anyone was going to be hard to track it would be Spencer Reid. But… "If anyone can profile him though…"

"Exactly," Rossi agreed. They stayed silent until they reached one of the rooms. Rossi broke the seal and opened the door. "Hang on." He had been carrying a briefcase all this time, now he opened it and set a box on the table. "I borrowed this from the local office. Organized crime is still popular out here, regardless of what the Better Business Bureau might want you to believe. Eliminating listening devices is still par for the course."

"And that's supposed to go up against Homeland?" Morgan asked.

"In theory, it's that or pass notes. What was Reid doing out here anyway?"

"Visiting his Mother."

"I already checked on her. Homeland wasn't bothering to hide all that well, they're currently squatting outside Bennington in case he goes there. I sent a couple of agents out to keep an eye on her and them. What else?"

"Star gazing. He was going to spend a few nights in the desert."

"Camping? It would explain why he checked out last night, and why we can't reach him by phone."

"Yeah, but Reid isn't the camping type." Morgan pointed out. "He was staying here."

"Homeland doesn't know that." Rossi replied. "It's good cover for being out of touch for a few days."

"So you think he got in the wind, and then he'll show up later and say he was camping." Morgan nodded. "All right, so how does he explain how he got from here to there?"

"Once he gets to DC Garcia can fill in a trip for him. Not that hard to fake the paperwork at that point." Rossi sighed. "Everyone is watching the airport. He turned over his car when he checked out, but he could say he was going with a friend and no longer needed it. Garcia hasn't noticed any activity on any of his cards since he called her yesterday."

"He called her?"

"Yep, said he was taking the full two weeks off."

"Okay, so he knew this was coming."

Damn it, Reid, what did you do? Morgan looked around the room again. "If he took the time to pack and he took the time to prep this, we're not going to find anything."

"Unless he wants us to find it," Rossi replied. He had opened one of the drawers and now he was pulling something out. "Something like this." He held up a flyer for the Magic Castle, a private club in Las Vegas promoting stage magic.

"You think he went there?" Morgan asked. "He is a member," which shouldn't surprise anyone.

"And they'll check there now that they've seen this." Rossi shook his head. "Sleight of hand, remember?"

Morgan nodded. One of Reid's favorite tricks, make the coin disappear and reappear. The trick was to get you to pay attention to one hand while he did what he was doing with the other. In case Homeland didn't buy camping, he wanted them to think he was going there, or to his Mother, or to the airport, or anywhere but where he was really going. Okay, so if he was a Homeland agent whose attention was now focused on all the obvious places, where wouldn't he be looking?

It came to them both at the exact same moment.

* * *

Back down in the lobby they went to the desk clerk and showed their badges. "Did Dr. Reid leave any messages for anyone here?" Rossi asked.

The clerk checked. "It doesn't appear so."

"Did he rent a vault box?"

She checked again. "Yes, he did. I assume you're included in the previous warrant?"

Morgan winced. The answer had been simple; Reid expected them to look anywhere but here. But Homeland had thought of that too.

"Yes, we are." Rossi replied evenly. They followed the clerk into the vault, where boxes much like safety deposit boxes in a bank were kept. The clerk unlocked the box and took it over to one of the cubical. "Did the other agents take anything out of here?" Rossi asked.

"Not that I saw." She replied. "If you ring the bell I'll come for the box when you're done."

As soon as she was gone they opened the box. It was, of course, empty. "They probably took whatever he had in here." Morgan grumbled.

"Maybe," Rossi replied. But he held up his open hands, a magician's gesture Reid had shown them a million times or so. Then he started feeling around the sides of the box. Sure enough, just like a coin might hide in the knuckles so the hand looks empty, taped to the underside of the top was a key with a tag attached.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Spencer eased off the highway, slowing to street speed and finally coming to a stop at the light. This part, this running, this was all in the books. What wasn't was the pain in her eyes as she startled awake, looked around, overcame her confusion, and slowly sat up. "What were you dreaming?" He asked, gently.

"He loved me." She said, in a soft, dreamy voice. "He really did. That's how they were able to use it against him."

"He?"

"The boy I was supposed to marry."

Oh. "What do you mean they used it against him?"

"He was…captured, a while ago. They tortured him until he broke, until he became this angry, wild thing that just wanted to kill me the moment he saw me. He wanted to kill everyone who even mentioned me." She looked out the window again. "They used his feelings for me to break him, drive him insane. He didn't even see me as human anymore."

Oh. "They made him what we call an Unsub." He supplied. "Abuse…torture…can do that to someone. We've seen it before." It was fascinating to consider that as a tactic in war, but he knew not to mention that right now. "Couldn't anyone help him?"

"No. No one knew how. Not even a clue where to begin." She was quiet for a long time. "I wasn't even sure I loved him until he was gone." She sounded like she had yet to truly wake. "I was dreaming of our wedding day."

Oh. "I'm sorry for your loss." Not that it helped much.

She made a sound that didn't have any humor. "I lost him when they broke him." She replied. "Coming here just took away any hope."

 **US Bank**  
E. Charleston Ave  
Las Vegas, NV

The tag had a series of letters and numbers written on it; letters and numbers that would make no sense unless you had done as many grid searches as they had and knew that search units usually worked in UTM, the Universal Transverse Mercator coordinate system. Punch those letters and numbers into a map program and you got a bank in a strip mall in a somewhat shabby part of Vegas. "This is his old neighborhood." Morgan pointed out, knowing that even that might be an important detail.

They entered, approached the counter, and went through the usual routine of badges and whatnot, before showing the clerk the key. She didn't say anything, just double checked the computer and led them to the back. "You don't feel the need to ask us for a warrant?" Rossi asked?

"Um, no," the clerk replied. "Agent Morgan has entry privileges to this box." She brought it out and left them alone with the box in question.

"Has anyone else been here to look at this today?" Morgan asked before she left.

"No."

"Now we're ahead of them." Rossi muttered as soon as they were alone.

"Yeah, and it doesn't sound like he's hiding from us." Morgan popped the top of the box, and blinked. Right on top lay Spencer's badge and phone, not at all what he wanted to see, along with every other card Spencer would have had in his wallet. Under that was a small pile of credit cards, all in the name of one Samuel Gideon. "Credit cards in a new identity, but no ID. Why would he bother with the credit cards and not use them?"

"Because he wasn't planning this," Rossi replied. "These cards were issued over a year ago, about the time of the original Doyle case. This was a back-up identity, in case something happened, this isn't about what's going on now. He didn't take cards so he wouldn't leave a trail in case Homeland found this."

"Okay, but how is he getting around? He hasn't used his cards and I doubt he had that much cash on him." Wait; there was something in the bottom of the pile. Morgan extricated a cash band, imprinted for ten thousand dollars. "Or maybe he does."

Rossi considered this for a moment. "Las Vegas, Laughlin and Pahrump," he said, finally.

"What?" Morgan asked.

"You weren't there." Rossi replied. "Come on." They emptied the box and headed out of the vault. Once clear of the building Rossi got on the secure line. "Garcia?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"There is an ATM at this location. Can you get the video and run through it today?"

"Can do, will do, just give me a….." There were a few clicks and a pause and then… "Oh, hello. He must have been there bright and early. Okay, I am sending this to your tablet and when we find him he's in big trouble."

They looked down as the screen on Morgan's tablet came on. There was Spencer at the ATM, looking a little shaggy and unshaven. Spencer finished his transaction and then held up a note to the camera.  _When you find me, bring Garcia._

Garcia spoke up again. "Okay, it looks like he took five hundred out of an account in the name of Stephen Gideon."

"Why would he need five hundred if he had ten grand on him?" Morgan asked.

"Because that ten grand was already spoken for; back that up and look again." Morgan did so. "There." Rossi pointed to an arm just on the edge of the frame. "Someone was with him. Look, he talking to them."

"He's not afraid of them, whoever they are." Morgan noted. "So you think he had to buy another set of papers?"

"More than likely."

"I'm surprised he even knew where."

"Why?" Rossi looked at him. "He grew up here, went to high school here. It's not too much of a stretch for him to know where to get a fake ID, and a good one too."

"Yeah, but why would Spencer need a fake ID?"

"How do you think he took care of Diana all those years? He's a natural card counter." Rossi replied. "When we worked on that case in Atlantic City he said he'd been banned in Vegas, Laughlin and Pahrump."

Of course, gambling, Morgan chuckled. "And he'd need a good one to get it past the pit bosses. All right, I'm tracking. So what was the five hundred for?"

"Seed money."

"Seed money?"

Rossi nodded and dialed the phone again. "Garcia, start checking casinos, see if anyone paid out a large sum in cash this morning."

"Yes sir, I'll have it to you in a trice."


	5. Chapter 5

He locked the door and settled down next to her. "They're bringing us dinner." He said, quietly.

She rolled her head and opened her eyes to look at him. "Fattening us up for the slaughter?" She asked as if making a bitter joke.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"Nothing, just remembering the first time I traveled like this."

He settled on the seat next to her. "Tell me."

* * *

**Gold Strike Casino  
Jean, NV**

**Morgan**

"Yeah, I remember him." The head pit boss told them. The Gold Strike was the only casino not in the same district as Las Vegas, Laughlin and Pahrump to have a big winner that morning. Morgan and Rossi had driven an hour southwest of Vegas to get here, but they were still well ahead of Homeland. Now they were sharing Spencer's picture. "He started with two hundred at the blackjack table and pulled it all the way up to twenty-five grand before we cut him off. If you find him, tell him he's not welcome back, not with that kind of a system."

"We will." Rossi told him. "Do you have video surveillance of the casino floor? We'd like to get a look at him if you don't mind."

"Sure."

"Do you know if he got a hotel room?"

"No, they left right after we asked him to stand down a while; didn't even buy a drink."

"They?"

"He had a girl with him."

The video revealed that Spencer was driving a beater, the kind of thing that probably cost less than five hundred cash, and did have a girl with him. She looked to be about JJ's height, slender, with her dark hair braided back. She looked very uncomfortable, almost scared, and stuck very close to Spencer the entire time. He was cautious, but reasonably comfortable. "He's keeping an eye out, probably for us or for Homeland, but what's she so afraid of?" Morgan wanted to know.

"Not a clue, but I bet that's a big part of whatever this is." Rossi replied.

* * *

**Spencer**

"They had this…contest. Every year you had to put your name in, starting when you turned twelve up until you were eighteen. And every year it added up. But then in order to get food rations for the year you had to add your name again, once for every person you were pulling rations for."

"How many times was your name in?"

"Four times a year, seven years, twenty-eight times. My hunting partner has a much bigger family than I do; he was in forty-two times."

"So what happens if your name is drawn?"

"You get sent to the Capitol to be in this big, televised contest. It's the biggest thing all year."

"What do you have to do to win?"

"Survive. Twenty-four go in, only one comes out alive."

* * *

**Gold Strike Casino parking lot  
Jean, NV**

**Morgan**

After the pit boss asked Spencer to politely stop the couple equally politely cashed out and left, heading southwest down the highway. "Why are they heading that way?" Morgan wanted to know. "He can't be thinking of trying to get a fake ID past TSA at an airport in LA."

"No, he'd be home by now if he had." They thanked security and headed out into the cool desert night. Rossi looked up into the sky and thought out loud. "Okay, you're Reid. You're heading into LA, but you need to get back to DC. You have 25 grand cash and at least one set of fake ID on you. You've picked up at least one more along the way. What do you do?"

Morgan thought a moment. "If I knew I was getting the cash? I'd have picked up a second ID and picked up a better car in LA. Then I'd head east, skirting Las Vegas as I did so."

"Okay, so now we know what he didn't do."

Morgan nodded his agreement, "Because if I was thinking that way then they would be thinking that way. Okay, so where does he want their attention now?"

"On the hand where they expect to find the coin; they would think he was on the road, so he wants them looking at the road." Rossi nodded up at the bright casino sign. "Reid's been banned at every casino in Vegas, including those owned by the MGM corporation. I'll bet he only stays at the Signature because it's a non-gaming, non-smoking hotel. This is also MGM corporate."

"So?"

"So they must have his picture on file at the corporate office on their banned list. Tonight when they rectify their books they're going to figure out that 'Samuel Gideon' and 'Spencer Reid' are one and the same. At that point Homeland will surely catch wind of him being here and winning this much."

"And then they'll look at the electronic records of all cars sold today in the LA area, looking for Samuel Gideon." LA was at the other end of this highway.

"And when they don't find him they'll go looking for whoever sells fake ID's in Vegas. Eventually they'll find whoever sold one to Reid, find his new identity, find the car he bought, and put out an APB. There's no way he could get to safety in DC ahead of them at that point."

"So he's not driving."

"I don't think so."

* * *

**Spencer**

Spencer's mind immediately began turning over the details of why, why, why. "I can't imagine families would just allow their children to be taken for something like that."

"If they try to stop them or run away they're shot. Hell, if they don't act happy, like it's the greatest honor, they can get corporal punishment. "

"But if the whole community stood up…."

"They'd be firebombed, everyone killed. It's happened a few times now." There was no humor in her voice, not at all. "Everyone has to celebrate. It's the law."

Spencer couldn't help it. He was already shaping the profile of a mind that would come up with something so evil. "And you lost the lottery?"

"I volunteered."

* * *

**Gold Strike Casino parking lot  
Jean, NV**

**Morgan**

"At this point I'd expect him to buy a car in the LA area under the name of 'Samuel Gideon'. Let them think he made a mistake somewhere. Then, if I were him, I'd trash or stash that car somehow, get as much grace time as he could, then use his newest identity to travel in another manner. While they're looking at the roads for him he'll sneak around behind them." Rossi pulled out the tablet and started fiddling with it. "The next stop on this highway is Barstow, California. That's going to be too small of a town to find what he was looking for, but an hour and a half past that is Pasadena, California."

Morgan grinned, "Home to CalTech. Okay, that's familiar stomping grounds, Homeland would eat that up. So he heads there to buy and dump a car. But then where does he go?"

Rossi got back on the phone. "Garcia, there is a train station in Fullerton, California. Can you check the video any time after, say, five today?"

"I'll send it to your tablet as soon as I find it."

Morgan was grinning. "Train makes sense, most people wouldn't think of it and in this part of the country the security is practically non-existent. Why Fullerton?"

"Less security than Union station in LA, but they have a ticket office where he can pay cash and long-term parking where he can stash the car he picked up in Vegas. Speaking of, let's head back that way."

As they were driving the phone rang again. "Speak to me babygirl." Morgan called out to the speaker phone."

"Rossi you officially beat the genius. Stephen and Katherine Abernathy are aboard the  _Southwest Chief_  and heading to Chicago, at which point they'll board the  _Cardinal_  for New York City. I'm sending the video to your tablet now. And before you ask they are sharing a room."

"New York City?" Rossi grumbled.

"It stops in DC." Garcia replied.

"Yeah, but he wouldn't get off in DC." Morgan pointed out. "That's too risky; they're looking for him there." He thought a moment until he remembered. "Does it go through Culpeper?"

"Um, yeah, how did you know?"

Morgan smiled. "I know where he's going."

* * *

**Aboard the** _**Southwest Chief  
** _ **Eastbound**

**Spencer**

Spencer was horrified. The entire system, the entire country, every life was crafted to break down under the weight of the psychological torture. Every person reached adulthood broken to apathy and despair, every one. "You volunteered?"

"I had to." Kat insisted. "They were going to take my sister. She was only twelve; she never would have survived it."

Maybe not everyone, "And you thought you could?"

"My father taught me to hunt, to survive. I figured I had a chance. I ate my first real meal on the train to the Capitol." She looked out the window at the passing night and thought a while. "'Course I didn't plan to start a war along the way, I just wanted us to survive."

"You and your sister?"

"Me and Peeta, the other Tribute from our District." He saw the bitterness deepen in her eyes. "When he first said he loved me I thought he was just playing the game." She admitted.

"Tell me the rest."


	6. Chapter 6

Hotch looked up when Garcia tapped on his door. "Um, Sir, I think I found something."

"Is it about…?" She nodded. "Not here. Come on." He led her down to the SCIF where they could not be overheard by any sort of listening device. "What did you find?"

"Homeland isn't after Reid." Garcia told him.

"What?"

"They haven't had any major operations going in the Las Vegas area in two years. And he hasn't even popped on their official radar."

"Garcia, Director Snowe was here. They were on the ground in Nevada."

"Yeah, I know that. But I've been sneaking around in their systems for days now, and I'm telling you, it's not a sanctioned op."

"Are you sure they couldn't just be hiding it from you?"

"Yeah, I thought of that and tried a few different ways, including some that would look like other hackers. Whatever Snowe is doing it's not official at all."

Hotch was completely confused. "What the hell is going on?"

* * *

**Aboard the** _**Southwest Chief  
** _ **Eastbound**

**Spencer**

"He was abusing you, you know." Spencer told her as she finished the next part of her story.

"Was he?" Kat murmured to the ceiling of the train car.

"He sounds like a sadistic psychopath with a bad case of either Antisocial or Narcissistic Personality Disorder. He was manipulating you to maximize your suffering out of revenge for making him look bad in front of the entire country; granted having the rebellion use you as a figurehead only made it worse." Spencer rolled over and rested his head on his upraised palm to look at her face. "I'm honestly surprised he didn't bring sex into this somehow."

"I found out later that if it hadn't been a year when he had another opportunity to send us back out to die in the games he probably would have forced us both into prostitution, and killed off our families if we refused. He did that to other people." She looked over, met his eyes. "I would have done it to save my sister, you know."

"I know. That doesn't make you a horrible person. It makes you a survivor." He reached over and took her hand, just to ground her in the present. "I'm glad you didn't have to."

"So am I. She's safe in Thirteen now, at least she was when I left. And she has a chance at a future; she's going to study for a doctor."

He smiled. "That's good. It sounds like she has a real chance."

"I just…I lost so much time, trying to make him happy so he wouldn't hurt us anymore."

"You never would have. He was only happy when you were miserable, when he was getting his revenge." That spoke of an amazing level of control. Most sadistic personalities like to watch their victims suffer, but this one could send others out to do his work, accept a report back that it was done, and apparently be able to so perfectly understand what his victim would be suffering that he had no need to watch. I think we just found a whole new class of Unsub, Spencer thought.

She was quiet a long moment. Then, "I don't want to waste any more time."

"What do you mean?"

In reply she reached up, slid one hand around the back of his neck, pulled him down, and kissed him.

She caught him off guard. That was his only excuse. That's why he couldn't stop her, and he couldn't defend himself from the spark of heat that flared up and began to slowly grow. She caught him off guard, surprised him, back in the desert and now, and that was why everything overwhelmed him. And when she finally broke the kiss and met his eyes he realized that she was surprised too.

But he knew what he had to say, what had to happen now. "No. Kat, we can't do this."

"Why not?" She insisted.

"There's this theory called transference. Basically it says that you tend to transfer the unfinished emotions you hold for a person in your past onto a safe person in your present." Why does this always happen, he thought? "I'm not your fiancée."

She slumped back onto the bed and returned to considering the ceiling. "I'm sorry." She said, finally.

"No, you don't have to be. It's understandable. You just need time to heal before you start something new."

"How long?"

He thought for a few moments, letting everything she had told him and everything he had observed sift through his brain. "Given what I suspect your diagnosis will be, probably four to five years." She started laughing at him. "No, that is a realistic time frame, if you're hoping for a healthy, long-term relationship."

"Spencer, I…I don't think I've ever planned more than one or two days ahead in my life; a season, maybe, at most, like, storing food for the winter. And you're talking in years."

"A foreshortened sense of future, a feeling that you can't plan or prepare for anything because you probably won't live that long, is one of the more common symptoms of these kinds of issues. It was probably one of the effects he was trying to induce in the population. If you grow up thinking you're going to die in the near future for one reason or another you never learn the ability to plan for the future. That would make it almost impossible to plan for a rebellion." Except, something didn't add, "So how did they plan for a rebellion?" He said, almost to himself.

"It was the Victors and District 13."

"Hmmm?"

"Victors of the games get everything they need, plenty of food, medical care and money. That's supposed to be part of what makes winning desirable enough to kill for, you and your family have a much better chance of survival. Granted, you commonly have to pay for it on your back eventually." That came out so bitter it hurt him to hear. "But at least you'll survive. And District thirteen existed as a separate entity, outside of the Capitol's control."

"How did they manage to do that?"

"I don't know. They said something about nuclear weapons, but I don't know what those are."

Oh. "Yeah, that would do it. You said the other Victors were mentors?"

"Yeah, that was how they communicated. They're the only ones who meet with people from other Districts on a regular basis. We didn't know they were using us to stir up unrest, to start the rebellion. Not until it was well underway."

"So they betrayed you too."

"Yeah."

She'd had nowhere to turn, no escape. That explained her actions now, she probably still felt trapped, like time was running out. "Like I said, you need to treat this first."

She was quiet again. "So you didn't feel that?"

He could not lie. He refused to lie. He told himself that right now her feelings and observations needed validation so she could learn to trust herself again. "Right now you need a friend."

She turned to look at him, and reached over and took his hand, "All right."

 


	7. Chapter 7

"I'm sorry about last night." Kat said quietly.

Spencer looked up from his eggs. Nothing had happened last night. They had both eventually drifted off, only to wake off and on when the nightmares came. Eventually the porter had knocked, asked after breakfast, brought blessed coffee and the paper and took their breakfast order. Kat had asked for and received tea instead of coffee, and had sat looking out the window at the passing desert until the food came. She ate as she always did, too quickly, like it might be taken away. From the sound of her world that might have happened. "There's nothing to be sorry for. It's not an unusual reaction to this kind of trauma."

"Yeah, you said. I just…I don't know where you thought that was going to go. I don't know where that was going to go."

"Oh?" Get her talking, he thought, the better to learn from her. Not that he knew to what end, but still, better.

Still, she was quiet for a long while. "I never really thought of it." She said at last. "None of us did, not ever. Gale said he loved me, but only after he found out I had to marry someone else. He never said it before, never…thought that way, even though we spent all that time alone in the woods together. And Peeta and I shared a bed more often than not, and we never…" She was quiet again. "I wasn't even thinking that last night. Not really."

I can be clinical about this, he thought. I can approach this from a scientific point-of-view. I can scream later someday. "That's also not that unusual. Long-term trauma tends to have a deadening effect on the sex drive. The body will prioritize survival over reproduction. The effect is actually hormonal, not just psychological. I wouldn't be surprised if your cycles were spotty and irregular and the guys had issues with impotence." Now it was his turn to be quiet. "Transference, remember. I suspect you were subconsciously trying to recreate what you had."

She made a dry, chuckling sound. "Yeah, that makes sense." She was quiet a while again. "He told them I was pregnant, you know."

"Who did?"

"Peeta, to drum up more negative feelings toward the Capitol; no one cared though; it just made them more excited about seeing me die. It was good for the betting."

Spencer took a deep breath and calmed the deep desire to go on a rampage on her behalf. "See, in a situation where that can even be a consideration I wouldn't expect anyone to be thinking of sex."

"Then why is it that as soon as everyone got out of high school they started going at it like bunnies? It was just like someone threw a switch, everyone I knew got married and pregnant in that first summer. Well," she chuckled, "The ones who weren't getting special attention from the Capitol."

He shrugged. "Well reproduction can be the next priority. Organisms tend to focus on survival of the gene pool as soon as they're safe."

She was quiet for a few more miles. "I always figured they finally felt safe enough to love."

 **FBI Headquarters**  
BAU office  
Quantico, VA

"I spoke with Deputy Secretary Lute." Strauss informed the members of the team currently available. "She confirmed that Snowe is acting independently of their department and is beginning an investigation. She's asked us to make Dr. Reid available for questioning and to begin a file on the situation including a profile if needed."

"Why?" Rossi asked. "He's off the rails. Rein him in and fire him."

Strauss sighed. "It's not that easy. Apparently Director Snowe keeps some powerful company. She's going to need proof and she's going to have to explain why he's acting this way."

"We haven't been able to find any reason for this guy to be fixated on Reid." Morgan informed her. "They run in different circles, live in different neighborhoods, they've never even had coffee in the same building."

Strauss made an impatient sound. "Well there has to be something."

Hotch took a deep breath as a glance was shared around the table. "Dr. Reid apparently brought a…female companion along on his vacation. We're moving the investigation in that direction."

"Ah." Strauss didn't look happy to hear this, but her nod was satisfied. "You think this might be a case of a jealous ex turned stalker?"

"It fits the data we have so far."

"Lovely. Well, keep me posted."

"Yes, Ma'am."

 **Department of Homeland Security**  
Nebraska Ave. Complex  
Washington DC

**Snowe**

Julian Snowe was just leaving work when his phone rang. His private phone, not the one he used for work. The one even his office didn't know existed and couldn't monitor if they did. He didn't even have to look at the caller ID, it only received calls from one number after all, "Yes, Sir?"

"Have you found her yet?" The deep, elderly voice on the other end asked?

"No, sir, but we will. It's only a matter of time."

"Time. Yes, time. Such a magical thing, infinitely malleable and yet strictly ruled. Time."

"Sir, if I may ask? Why does it matter? She'll be dead long before she can influence anything we're working toward now. She's just some girl here."

"That's not enough." The voice replied.

"Sir?"

"Her mere death would not be enough. That the rebellion is faltering is not enough. That I'm already planning on holding more Games next year is not enough. No, she defied the Snow family, she humiliated us and our name, and for that she must be punished. I don't want her to die, I want her to suffer. And I want her to live with her misery for a long, long time. Now do this for me and you and your descendents will be rewarded in time to come."

Julian smiled, "Yes, sir."


	8. Chapter 8

Once off the train Spencer had walked over to the community college practically across the street from the station and bought the first four wheel drive vehicle he found advertized on a bulletin board. It would be several days before the transfer of ownership was registered, if it ever was. He loaded Kat and their luggage in and headed for safe harbor.

But there was something he had to give her along the way. About thirty minutes into the drive he pulled off onto a smaller side road, around a curve and parked. Kat had nodded off some twenty minutes before, but when the vehicle slowed she'd woken up. Now she stretched and peered out the windows and then back at him, her eyes wide.

"Look, I'm sorry." He said, "We can't send you back. We don't have the technology. If it was even theoretical I would know. I can't bring your family back to you, and I am so sorry about that." He nodded out the window. "But at least I could bring you home."

Slowly she undid her belt and opened the door. The scents hit first, green and damp and growing, the scent of a healthy forest. Then the sounds, birds, the wind in the trees, the crunch of leaf litter under her feet as she slid out of the truck. She looked back at him, wide eyed, and then nimble as a deer she ran into the woods.

He got down and followed more slowly. From the descriptions of her home he knew that she must have grown up in Appalachia, an area not that far from Quantico and geologically contiguous with this park. She had learned to hunt and forage at her father's side, had sustained her family with that knowledge after his death. And one of the greatest losses had been the loss of those woods when the Unsub in her life denied her access. To her these woods meant survival and safe haven and life itself.

It was the only thing he could return to her.

He found Kat a quarter mile in, sitting on a moss covered fallen tree well above the forest floor, with tears streaming down her face, and carefully climbed up to sit beside her. "What's wrong?" He asked.

"Back home we have these things called mockingjays. In the first war the Capitol created these birds, jabberjays. They weren't that smart, but they could listen to human speech and repeat it back. They sent them out to spy on the rebels. According to the stories the old people tell it didn't work too well, once the rebels figured it out they sent everyone out in the woods to start talking, telling stories, singing songs, reading books. It made the jabberjays useless."

"It would." Spencer nodded, "Add enough noise to a data stream and it becomes impossible to extract the data. It was a smart tactic."

"When the Capitol canceled the program, they figured the jabberjays would die out because they were all male, but instead they cross-bred with mockingbirds and made mockingjays. They're smart birds, even though they can't replicate human speech they will replicate human music, but only if they like the song. When my father took me into the woods he used to sing to them and they would sing back. They'd grow the melody all over the forest." She looked around at the trees. "They used to sing for my friend Rue. They'd copy her song, and send it from tree to tree and when her people heard it they would know it was time to come in from the fields." She was quiet a moment. "She was twelve. She died in the first games. I sang to her as she died and gave her a proper good-bye." She closed her eyes and made this little groan. "That's what started the first uprising. I defied the Capitol by treating her as a real person, not just a piece in their games."

"I'm sorry."

Kat looked up at the trees and whistled four delicate notes. She waited, and then sung them in a voice so haunting it poured down his spine. But there was no reply. "Mockingjays aren't supposed to exist. They're living proof that the Capitol doesn't control everything."

He remembered something, from back in the desert, when they first met. He reached out and gently turned back the lapel of her jacket, revealing the emblem she'd brought with her, a jay with an arrow in its beak. "Is that what they called you? Their Mockingjay?"

She didn't reply. Instead she turned and sung to the trees. Once again there was no reply. "There are no Mockingjays in these woods."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't think I am." She slid down off the tree and quietly headed back in the direction of the truck. After a time she spoke again. "Are we staying out here tonight?"

"No. I know of a place not far from here where we'll be safe."

* * *

**Gideon's Cabin  
Outside the Shenandoah National Park**

**Morgan**

"Shoot me and I stop cooking."

Morgan turned from where he was making the bed and headed out to the main room. Sure enough, there was Reid, putting his weapon away. And Rossi was turning back to the stovetop, "Took you long enough." He said to the no-longer missing doctor. "We expected you here a half an hour ago."

"It took longer to buy the truck than I expected. And we had a stop to make." Reid stepped back out the door enough to bring their bags in. "I assume Homeland isn't about to descend upon us. Did you bring Garcia?"

"No, we wanted to find out what was going on first. Starting with introductions," Morgan looked over the girl who had come in with Reid. About twenty, twenty-two at most, shy as a deer, but a certain confidence and steel under that. Keeping it together deliberately, but also used to that; ready to bolt, he thought, but confident of her chances if she has to. "Hey. I'm Derek Morgan. The chef over there is Dave Rossi. We're friends of the Doctor here. What's your name?"

It took her a moment to answer, and he caught a glance to Reid for reassurance. "Kat Abernathy."

Uh-oh. "No, come on now. If you're in trouble we want to help but we can only do that if you're honest with us."

"Morgan." Rossi called softly. "Why don't we save it for dinner, let the lady freshen up first."

He nodded his agreement, and watched as Reid calmly showed the girl around. But as soon as she disappeared into the bedroom he pointed to the stool at the end of the kitchen island. "Start talking. How did you meet her and why is Homeland on your ass?"

Reid sat and sighed. "You two are not going to believe this."

"Try us."

"Okay, so I went out to the desert to see this convergence. XCT-14…"

"Stop. Stop." Morgan held up his hand. "Star gazing. Astronomy. We got that far. What happened?"

* * *

**Mojave Desert  
Five days before**

**Spencer**

_Spencer was in awe. He was out in the desert, well away from the light pollution of Las Vegas, out where the sky was a curtain of velvet sprinkled with a billion diamonds. He'd brought out a telescope along with some basic camping gear, and was set up for the night, out here where it was quiet and peaceful and he was well out of range of humanity on all levels, including by cell phone. The current convergence was the only time this would happen for the next hundred years. It was perhaps one of the most remarkable things he had ever seen in his life, well and truly worth the effort to come out and see it. Something he could tell his grandchildren about someday._

_It was the faint whiff of ozone that first caught his attention._

_He didn't pay any attention at first, but then came another, stronger._

_Then another._

_A crackle._

_He lifted his eye from the telescope to look around, to see what was going on. There wasn't anything out here for miles…_

_There. Over there. The darkness was….swirling somehow. Concentrating._

_As he watched something swirled, dark on dark._

_Then lightning erupted from the space. A crackle of it, low in the sky, blue against the black._

_Again, brighter._

_Again, far too bright. He threw up his hand to shield his eyes as a hole opened in the very fabric of the night._

_And a figure tumbled out._

_Immediately the hole closed as if it had never been._

_He stared for a moment as the figure scrambled to its feet, a weapon in hand. It looked around frantically for a few moments, turning this way and that as if disoriented, as if looking for the next attack. When none came it stopped and staggered and fell to its knees._

_Then it fell over._

_By now Spencer's heart was pounding. He grabbed his lantern and ran over to get a better look. The figure was wearing some kind of armor, all black, in an elegant design clearly meant to invoke some kind of warrior bird. It even had a bird insignia over its heart._


	9. Chapter 9

"Armor," Morgan said, sounding skeptical. "A figure in armor fell out of the sky."

"I know, it sounds…" Spencer held up a finger and went to one of the bags they'd brought in, pulling it up on the table. He reached in and pulled out a helmet, an elegant, almost winged design that would clearly invoke a bird when worn up but could also be folded down like a hood. He passed it over to Morgan who began to examine the object closely.

"So why did she pass out?" Rossi asked, "Shock?"

"Apparently. I went over to see if I could help…."

* * *

**Mojave Desert  
Five days ago**

_After a moment Spencer managed to get his body to move again. He ran over to the figure, moved its weapon out of reach, and gently rolled it on to its back before he started trying to figure out how to remove the helmet. The latches appeared to have been made for humanoid fingers, thankfully, and so he was able to undo them and slowly remove the helmet, ready to slam it back down at even the faintest suggestion of a loss of some kind of atmosphere._

_But there wasn't a need. The figure in the armor was a young, very human woman._

_He'd been waiting all his life for this._

_He checked her over, noted the symptoms of shock. It was understandable, he thought even as he started a bit of first aid, coming through a hole in space and time can't be easy. Thankfully her armor would protect her from the chill of the desert floor, so he propped her feet up on a rock and covered her with his jacket, then gently tried to rouse her. "Hey. Hey, are you in there?"_

_She came to after a moment, blinking in confusion at the carpet of stars above her head. She looked at him for a long moment, then sat straight up. That was clearly a mistake on her part, she wavered a moment like she was about to go back down, and reached out to him for support. He caught her shoulder and held her steady until she stabilized. "Where am I?" She asked in this soft, husky voice._

" _Um, Earth." Isn't that where you're supposed to start, he thought; "North American continent, Mojave Desert, outside Las Vegas, Nevada. Do I need to tell you what star system?"_

" _North America?" Clearly he was not helping her confusion at all. "No, no I'm from North America. I'm from…where is the Capitol? Where is the city?"_

_From North American. And she was speaking English with a familiar accent. "You're human. You're from earth. You haven't gone that far." At least not geographically. But then something else came to him. "What was the date when you left?"_

" _Depends on which calendar you use."_

" _The oldest one you know."_

_She told him and he felt his heart start to hammer in his chest. "What day is it now?" she asked_

_He told her._

_Her eyes slowly widened again._

* * *

**Gideon's Cabin  
Outside the Shenandoah National Forest**

"Two hundred and seventy five years?" Rossi asked.

"I know, it sounds crazy. But based on the evidence so far, it seems to be accurate." Spencer replied. "She's from the future. Our future, literally, I think she was born not that far from here, probably in West Virginia."

"All right, so what did you do next?"

"Well, once she was able to move…."

"What do you mean once she was able to move?"

Spencer was quiet a long moment. "You know, that's the one thing they never cover in the books. When someone comes through space or time or from another dimension they always come in the spirit of discovery, or on some kind of pilgrimage to elevate the consciousness of mankind or maybe they're coming to invade and take our resources. But they never talk about the individuals as people, as dimensional beings with desires and fears and attachments. They never talk about what they may have left behind."

"Family," Morgan nodded. "She had a family."

"Specifically a mother, a sister and a lover as well as a number of close friends; when she came here she lost them all." Spencer sighed as he tried to find the right words. "We've all seen it, that moment when a family member finds out that the Unsub took everyone from them, completely shattered their lives. They just…fall apart. That's how she reacted, she just….she started…sobbing and she couldn't stop. And I never…I usually turn the victims over to JJ, I didn't know what to do." He finally looked up at them. "The stores all say what to do when they come in aggression or peace or in the spirit of discovery. They never say what to do when they come in grief."

"So what did you do?"

"I…brought her back to the hotel and let her fall asleep in the other bed."

"Why didn't you call us?" Rossi asked

"Because by the time I got back to the hotel I wasn't certain it had all really happened. I mean, she was still there, but it was the kind of thing that's just…the next morning she was still there so I ordered breakfast for both of us. After that, she wanted to go back to bed, so I left her there and went to see Dr. Norman over at Bennington."

"Why?" Rossi asked.

"I figured there was a good chance I was hallucinating the entire thing, I wanted to be sure I wasn't having a schizophrenic break. For the record I'm fine."

"Good to know." Morgan said.

"I called Garcia to get some time to deal with this, then I picked up a few things and went back to the hotel to check on her. She was still asleep so I decided to head back out to the desert to see if I could find any more evidence, and ran right into Homeland security." This was the part that irritated him to no end. "They drew down on me! They wouldn't even back off when they found my badge! I spent the next five hours being interrogated on what I was doing out there."

"Did you tell them anything?" Rossi asked.

Spencer just looked at him. "We trained them, remember? Eventually they came around to the reason why they were out there. They wanted to know if I had seen any 'anomalies' out there the night before. It turned out that some Defense department monitoring system had picked up on something."

"Well, there's your proof that it was real." Rossi said. "You didn't say anything at that point?"

"No. She's a victim not a threat. She didn't need to disappear into a rendition program or something. So I…I packed her up and got in the wind. I figured if I could get her here I'd call you guys and we'd figure out what to do next. But then I realized that they might contact Hotch…"

"Try Strauss," Rossi pointed out

Spencer shuddered. "…and left that note about bringing Garcia. I know she has her support group, I was hoping she could help."

Rossi nodded, "All right. Not a bad plan. You probably could have gone to the local field office, but if the locals didn't know you they might not have been as helpful. Still, it worked out so far. Thing is, it's not Homeland after her."

Spencer's brain stuttered a moment. "What?"

"One of the Directors there has gone off the rails, he's after her personally."

"Why?"

"Good question."

"I don't know." Morgan spoke up. "I get where you're coming from, but I'm still having trouble with the whole future thing. I mean, this…" He held up the helmet. "...is impressive, it's not Kevlar, I don't know what it is. But it could be just a movie prop."

"You haven't seen her bow." Spencer replied.


	10. Chapter 10

"Her bow?" Morgan asked.

Spencer retrieved a different case, this one hard sided, meant to carry something more fragile or dangerous. He unlocked the latches and opened it to reveal a bow and quiver. He gingerly pulled the bow from the case, trying to hold it like she had. It was a glossy black, its limbs swept back in a way to evoke wings in flight. When he turned it into the light you could see circuitry tracing the inside. He carefully passed it to Morgan.

"Whoa," was all Morgan could say at first. He was clearly impressed by the lethal beauty of the piece. He wrapped his fingers around the string and tried to pull it back but the string stayed rigid. He tried harder. "She can pull this?"

"It's locked." They turned at the voice to see Kat standing in the bedroom doorway. "It's coded for my voice, operates off of voice commands." She move beside Morgan and cupped one of the limbs in her hand, tipping it toward her cheek. "Wake up."

They all heard a hum start up and then settle. Morgan's eyes went wide. "This thing…it feels alive or something." Now he was able to pull back the string, but even with his strength it was still a bit of an effort. "Same question, you can pull this?"

"They wouldn't have made it for me if I couldn't." Kat took the bow from him and pulled it easily, the part of her back exposed by her tank top rippling with muscles as she did. "With the augmented pull it's accurate to a hundred yards." She eased the string back and turned to the quiver, indicating the different colored shafts. "Incendiary, explosive, armor piercing."

Morgan whistles. "Okay, that is a serious piece of hardware. You're right though." He said to Spencer. "If that thing can do what she says it can then it has to be from the future."

"Yes, but that's also not a hunting weapon." Rossi pointed out as he started bringing food to the table. "Okay, we heard Reid's side of things, now it's your turn. What were you doing before you came through that hole?"

Kat thought for a moment as she settled at the table, "War." She admitted at last, "Rebellion. We were fighting through the Capitol streets. They were booby trapped, all these weird traps that…I fell into one."

"Uh-huh," Rossi set the bowl of pasta on the table. "I don't know if you have profilers in the future or not, so let me tell you what we do. We have to get in the minds of the sickest, craziest, most vicious killers out there in order to try to get ahead of them and stop them. That means we all spend hours interviewing these guys, checking out their stories from every angle possible. The first thing you have to be able to do to be a profiler is spot a lie. So don't even bother. Now why don't you try again?"

Kat looked up at him with a cold, angry glare. "Go to hell." She got up, gathered her bow, quiver and jacket, and walked out the door.

"Kat," Spencer got up and ran after her. "Kat!" He'd never find her if she reached the tree line. "Kat stop! Please!" Thank goodness she did. "Kat," he took her by the shoulders and gently turned her around.

"You don't understand." She told him, bitterness filling her voice. "You don't know what it was like."

"I'm sorry. I know it's not easy. But someone is after you, not because you fell through that hole, they're after  _you_." He watched her eyes widen as that sank in. "Now we can help you, we can keep you safe, but to do that we need as much information as we can get."

She shook her head. "You don't understand…"

"Please."

Angry tears filled her eyes, but her shoulders slumped beneath his hands as she gave in.

* * *

**The Capitol  
275 years from now**

**Katniss**

_Boggs was dead, his legs blasted off by the mine in the streets. Miller had fallen into another trap, he was screaming as the strands of barbed wire tore him into shreds. All around them was chaos as civilians who had been sheltering in place started pouring out of the buildings and running from the black wave bearing down on them through the concrete canyon of the streets. At the moment the holo held Katniss' attention, she had to find a way out of here._

_Then she heard more gunfire, and a sharper scream._

_Gale and Leeg 1 had been shooting at the street, trying to clear it of more mines. She hadn't given any thought to it, it seemed like a sound tactic, but as she looked Gale fired again. And deliberately shot a civilian in the back._

_And he smiled._

_Her heart stopped._

_She knew he hated the Capitol and all it stood for. She knew he hated every evil thing that had been done to her and to the people from their home in the name of the Capitol. She knew now that he was born to be a rebel, a soldier, to fight for freedom and justice._

_That wasn't what this was._

_This was revenge. And that smile was blood lust._

_That is not the Gale I know, she thought. The Gale I know would never hurt an innocent person. But he's been growing toward this, I've seen it right along, and now it's happened._

_Two more people tried to run for safety and Gale cut them down._

_This is not the Gale I know, she thought. I've lost him. I destroyed him._

_And he was the last one to lose; her last chance at a future._

_She'd lost her mother when her father died. Cinna was dead. Darius was dead. Peeta was insane. Haymitch had betrayed her for the rebellion. Gale had become a monster. Even Prim didn't need her anymore, she was safe in Thirteen; she had a future of her own now, one that didn't need an empty shell of a sister to drag it down._

_All that was left was the uniform she wore and her desire for revenge. There was no future left for the Mockingjay once the war was over. And look what revenge had just done to Gale._

_She had nothing left to fight for._

_She looked down at the holo in her hands. Down the alleyway behind her was another trap. This one marked_ _**The Desert** _ _._

_It didn't matter what it was. It would do._

_She placed her thumb on the screen as she spoke a series of letters and numbers. "Unfit for command. Transfer of prime security clearance to Squad Four-Five-One Soldier Marilla Jackson. Jackson!" When the woman's head turned she flung the holo in her direction. As soon as she knew it was caught she looked back at Gale. "Good-bye," she whispered._

_Then she turned and ran down the alley._

* * *

**Gideon's Cabin  
Outside the Shenandoah National Forest**

**Spencer**

"I knew it was down there." Kat admitted again as the tears rolled down her cheeks. "I didn't know what it would do, but it didn't matter. I knew it was down there. I ran down that alley deliberately." She started sobbing now. "Everything was gone long before I met you. They destroyed everyone, Spencer! They even destroyed our home! And it was all because of me!"

She was right; he didn't know what to say.

He pulled her in close and let her tears soak his shoulder. It wasn't her fault, he thought, she did the best she could. She was stronger and more resilient in this situation than I could have been. Everything did fall apart, but it wasn't her fault. I don't know how to help her. I don't know yet but I will find a way.

"I'm glad you didn't die." He murmured finally. And then he held her for a long time.


	11. Chapter 11

"Hardhead, I said come up tomorrow morning." Morgan sighed and pulled the phone away from his ear. "Garcia is already in Culpeper. What kind of ice cream do you like?"

"What kind of ice cream?" Kat asked.

"What flavor? Vanilla, chocolate, Chunky Monkey…"

"I don't know. I don't know what 'ice cream' is. I like hot chocolate but I don't really like a lot of sweets."

Morgan just blinked at her before getting back on the phone, "New York Super Fudge. And get some chips. Yeah," he wandered off a bit.

'You don't like sweets and you were going to marry a baker?" Spencer asked.

"He made me cheese buns." She informed him. She was currently inhaling a plate of Rossi's pasta. "This is really good." She informed him.

"Thank you. Although honestly, from the way you look you haven't had that much to eat in the past. I'd bet you'd say that about anything that didn't crawl off the plate."

"No." She smiled just a little. "If it crawled off the plate I'd just hunt it down again."

Morgan hung up. "Well, she is on her way, and she is bringing a satellite hook-up so we can firm up Kat's new identity. I don't know where we're all going to sleep, there's one bed in that room, and two in that one. The couch might fold out."

"I'm not staying the night." Rossi informed him. "I don't know what Gideon was thinking when he bought this rat hole but if I'm not on the clock I'm going to sleep some place more comfortable."

Kat shrugged. "It seems like a nice place to me."

"We have different definitions of nice. You are not making me hopeful for the future."

"Well okay then." Morgan pointed to the room with two beds first, "Guy's room, girl's room."

Spencer looked over at Kat and found her looking at him. No, nothing had happened and nothing would happen, but…

Morgan sighed, "Or not."

Rossi chuckled. "Now that that's settled we still haven't figured out why someone from Homeland is after our time traveler here. There is no way that time travel will ever be easy, I can't imagine a government expending that kind of money and effort to go after one soldier who, to all intents and purposes, died on or disappeared from a battlefield. Even an officer. We're missing something."

There was quiet a moment. "I wasn't really a soldier." Kat admitted at last. "I was their Mockingjay."

Rossi nodded. "Start at the beginning."

* * *

"Jinkies"

Kat hadn't been that far in to her story when Garcia had shown up, so it wasn't much for her to back-up and start again. She'd finally lain out the entire thing, from her father's death to her suicide attempt in the battle. Now Garcia reached out and rubbed her arm. "You have been through far too much for someone your age, sweetie." She told her.

Kat shrugged. "No more than anyone else. I guess."

"Yeah, well, you made it this far. You'll make it the rest of the way."

For a moment Spencer saw something tentative and bright come into Kat's eyes. "I don't even know what that means." She admitted at last.

"You will." Garcia told her. She looked at the three guys, "Take dish duty?"

Spencer looked at Morgan, he heard the 'give us some privacy' in that question. They both started clearing the table when Rossi spoke up. "Hang on. Are we saying that the President in her time is the Unsub in question?"

"He seems the likely suspect." Morgan pointed out; "A highly controlled sadist with a bad case of Antisocial Personality Disorder."

"I would have thought Narcissist." Spencer pointed out.

"Less so than most politicians," Rossi countered. "A Narcissist would insist on being in the middle of things, he wouldn't farm out the work. No, my question is how is someone from then causing trouble now? How is he related to Snowe?"

Kat's spoon clattered on the table as she jerked back in her chair. "The President is named Snow!" She told them.

"Ahhh, that's it. That makes sense. Probably not the same one," Rossi reassured her as Garcia patted her arm again. "But it might be ancestor and descendent. Do what I want and your family will have power and wealth in the future; that can work for some men. He only went after you when you popped up on his radar at the end of that first game. Had the rebellion not continued to use you as a figurehead eventually you would have fallen off, probably when he had another Victor to use as a toy. Our best bet now is to keep you out of his sight, eventually he'll focus on someone else."

Kat was quiet. "You mean everyone else." The guilt was heavy in her voice.

Rossi nodded. "And that will be everyone else's problem. You've done enough soldier; it's time to stand down."

"He's right, you know." Garcia told her. "You don't need to fight anymore. If nothing else, we'll fight for you."

Kat shook her head. "I've hurt enough people like that."

"That's because you were playing his game in his play yard. Now if he wants to keep playing we make him play in ours." Rossi settled back. "That means you don't meet with Snowe. There's no need for it and it would just feed into your Snow's desire to follow your movements. Tomorrow you and Reid will come down to Quantico and meet with Strauss. You tell her the story we give you."

"Won't she know I'm lying?"

"Nah, Erin's not that good. Besides, she had to deal with a stalker herself when she was younger, that will bias her in your favor. Then you two come back up here, Reid will stay until you get settled enough to stay alone. And you quietly fade away into a new life."

Kat thought about it a long moment. "Who stops Snow?"

"I don't know. That's not our problem; we can't stop him from here."

Spencer knew that was not a good enough answer.

* * *

**BAU headquarters  
Quantico, VA**

**Rossi**

"Time traveler."

Rossi just nodded. He knew Aaron would be skeptical, he would have been himself. "I know. I wouldn't have believed it either. But we were at it for hours, that girl was not lying, her story was internally consistent, her emotions were real and it was all backed up by the artifacts she had with her, Reid's report and Snowe's reaction."

"Snowe could be just a delusional. It would not be the first Folie à deux we've dealt with. "

"Yeah, but Reid checked out. I called Norman, he passed a psych eval with flying colors, and this from someone who knows how to work around that mind of his." He sighed. "You knew if this was ever going to happen it would happen to Reid."

"True. But...time traveler?"

Rossi shrugged. "I know. But the evidence fits."

Hotch sighed. "All right, but we keep an open mind. What's her cover?"

"Katherine Abernathy, 22, student at George Washington…"

"A Professor dating a student?"

"Given that most people in his age range are in college and he got his first degree before he could drive it would be hard for him not to have a Professor/student relationship. He doesn't teach at George Washington, so there wouldn't be an ethics consideration there. and we added a couple of years to her age, so dating a 27 year old wouldn't seem so dicey, she's more than mature enough to carry it off."

"Isn't Snowe a little old for her?"

"She wouldn't be the first college girl to make a mistake and date someone old enough to show her a better time. But she found out he's married and broke it off, thereby turning him into a jealous ex. He was nothing more than an annoyance until he found out she was spending a long week-end in Sin City with another man, then it got nasty."

"And Reid is good with this?" Hotch asked

Rossi chuckled. "A pretty young time traveler who needs his help fell out of a hole in the sky right in front of him. He may be showing restraint given her recent losses but don't kid yourself. Wait until you see the way he looks at her."

Hotch sagged. "Great."

"Awww, our boy is growing up; he was bound to find someone eventually. I actually think she'll be a good match once she has time to heal." He shook his head. "If even half of her story is true she has been through the wringer five times over. Thankfully the first thing Reid did was turn her over to Garcia. She has the resources to get her the help she needs."

"Good." Hotch looked at the clock and then at the figures coming in the elevator lobby. "All right, let's go."


	12. Chapter 12

"We are terribly sorry for all this Miss Abernathy." Strauss said as they left the conference room. "I am confident I can extend the deepest apologies of both departments and I promise that this sort of thing will not happen again."

"Thank you." Kat said quietly. Spencer was impressed by her performance. She'd gone through the entire interview sounding sincere and honest, even when she was lying through her teeth. Unless you had profiler type training or experience you would never have realized she was lying at all. It looked like being a figurehead for a rebellion gave you decent acting chops.

Strauss actually gave her a nod and a smile. "You're welcome." She looked over at Spencer. "Dr. Reid, don't you have some vacation time left?'

"Um, yes Ma'am. I'm supposed to be back next Monday."

"Well don't stay here, go enjoy it." She moved past them, but paused and looked back at Kat. "Nice girl." She murmured approvingly before heading down the stairs.

He couldn't decide if he was pleased or creeped out by that.

"So that's it, then?" Kat asked.

Spencer nodded. "Now he'll have to choose between his great-grandson and his job. If he's at all rational he'll let this go. And your Snow should find someone easier to pick on."

"All right," Kat nodded and turned but only got a few steps before she stopped in her tracks. As Spencer watched, all the blood drained from her face. "Did you…did…where did those come from?" She pointed into the bullpen.

There was a vase of white roses on his desk.

He turned back to her, confused. "I didn't order them." He told her.

"Snow…he's left them for me before. He grows them." Kat murmured to him as he pulled her into his arms. "According to Finnick he poisoned some of his political rivals once. He had to take the poison himself to do it; by the time he got to the antidote it burned his mouth. Now he grows roses genetically engineered for a stronger scent, and he always wears one in his lapel to cover the scent of blood on his breath." He felt her shudder. "It doesn't work."

"What's wrong Dr. Reid?' Strauss asked from across the room.

He nodded to the roses. "Apparently they're from the stalker."

"Oh, the nerve!" Strauss stalked across the room and picked up the vase. "I'm going to go call the Deputy Secretary immediately." She took the roses and stormed out of the room.

"You really are safe here." Morgan pointed out. "You even have Strauss in your corner."

Kat sighed just a little. "It's not me I'm worried about."

* * *

**Gideon's Cabin  
Outside the Shenandoah National Forest**

A few days later Morgan and Garcia showed up as the sun was just starting to ease down in the summer sky. "Man, I don't know why you had us bring pizza." Morgan said as they came in the door. "That smells heavenly."

Spencer had been enjoying a remarkably relaxing few days in Kat's company. He'd bought her a new, unaugmented bow and had taken to spending all day in the woods, tracking game and sometimes bringing it home. It was something she had done before the games, she told him, before the war and the shattering of her community. The air of relaxation and competency she'd brought back even after her first day had been notable. She wasn't healed, not by a long shot, but Spencer could already tell that being on familiar, comfortable ground was a big first step along that path.

For his part he'd stopped at his apartment and brought up some research and reading that he'd been meaning to get to for months now. While she was out in the woods he had all the doors and windows open and was comfortable on the small patio, some music on the house stereo, an outstanding coffee pot, and nothing to interrupt him before sundown.

She was more than grateful for the lack of television in the cabin. In fact she confessed that she found them terrifying. Instead he was starting to teach her card games and chess, had introduced her to National Public Radio, and Garcia had started giving her knitting lessons. According to Kat her mother had made them socks, hats, mittens and such, but had never taught her eldest daughter how to make them herself. This probably had to do with the profound, extended depression her mother had fallen into upon her father's death. It was clear to all of them that at that time their relationship had been shattered beyond repair, the second great loss in her life. Spencer speculated that her wanting to learn now was a subconscious attempt to somehow fill that hole for herself, to give herself the nurturing and care that she should have received from her mother. She had suggested he read aloud at night, as her father had, but he had demurred, not comfortable with filling that role in her life. Instead they'd had Rossi up one night, and he told stories until it was almost too late for him to drive home.

At night he held her when the nightmares came.

The nightmares always came. Sometimes she woke screaming, other times she woke in tears. Every time he made her tell him the memory that had formed the base of the dream, and every time he was quietly horrified. She had been through so much, more than he had ever thought anyone could bear. But she bore it all with a quiet dignity that he found utterly entrancing. As they got to know each other better he found that that dignity concealed a dry sense of humor and a caring streak that ran very, very deep.

All in all he was finding that he enjoyed her quiet, steady company. And he was falling even further in love with her.

But there was one thorn in all this domestic bliss. Before everything had happened Kat was a hunter. Specifically she was a professional poacher who had not only hunted for meat for sale but also to sustain her family. And her family was not that picky.

"I don't know why you brought more food." Kat said as she looked over her shoulder from the stove. "There's enough on this roast for everyone."

"Oh my. Guess they teach you how to cook in the future, huh?"

"Not really." Kat replied. "I'm trying to remember what Mom did in the kitchen. I was never that domestic."

Morgan snagged a teaspoon from the cup and reached around her to steal a taste of the gravy she was working on in the pan. "Mmm! That is good, a lot of flavor. What kind of meat is that?"

Spencer gave Morgan a big smile, reached behind him to the work counter Kat had set up by the back door and held up a large, leathery tail, "Beaver."

The look on Morgan's face was worth every moment of watching the thing being cleaned. It only got worse when she pulled out the roasting pan to show that it was still mostly intact, including the head.

"Leave that alone; it's dinner tomorrow night." She turned away from Spencer and back to the stove. "He had a lot of meat on him though." Kat said, oblivious. "I might preserve that. We really have more than enough….what?"

Morgan swallowed it down. "No offence but I think we'll stick with the pizza." Garcia nodded in agreement, her face gone a little green.

"Your loss."

 


	13. Chapter 13

Monday, Spencer walked in with his satchel over his shoulder, his go-bag in hand and a light step. In the end it had been a truly amazing vacation after all, but he was ready to get back to the relative normal of work. I never thought serial killers would seem 'normal' he thought.

When he turned around after putting his lunch in the fridge Garcia was right there. "Is that your lunch?"

He never knew if they were going to go out on a case or if they would be spending a day cleaning off the mounds of paperwork on their respective desks. Given that JJ was just back from her honeymoon today he had figured the odds to be toward the latter. "Yes."

In another part of the room Morgan's phone rang. "Hey, Auntie Yvonne, what's going on? Wait…what?"

"What is it? Beaver? Woodchuck? Warthog?"

Spencer sighed. "Garcia, warthogs aren't native to North America."

JJ was also on the phone. "Wait, Will, what's going on?"

"Yeah, but it's something, right?" Garcia was working herself up to full on fluster. "Is it…oh, she did not kill Peter Cottontail, did she?"

The hardest part was not chuckling over this. The difference between the two women was just that striking. "Not lately. Garcia, do you want to know what it is?" He turned back to the fridge and pulled out his bad.

"Jessica, lock the doors and set the alarm system. I'm sending two agents over to bring you both here. Hotch was saying calmly. "Leave all that on the counter for them. And don't let Jack out of your sight."

Garcia was wincing and pulling away when he pulled his lunch from the bag, clearly afraid to look. "Pastrami on rye," he smiled as she finally turned to look at him. "I picked it up from the deli on the way in this morning. I can't commute two hours from the cabin so I spent last night at my apartment."

Garcia relaxed even as she whapped his shoulder. "You! How is she doing up there?"

"All right so far. The nightmares are an issue, but during the day she doesn't seem to be having any problems." So long as the sun was up Kat was happy in the woods, and in the evening she seemed to enjoy the radio and keeping her hands busy. It was only in her sleep that she lost it completely. "I think the familiar environment is really contributing to her sense of safety."

"Oh, that's good, that's the first step. I found some therapists who have the chops to work with her, but I don't know how we're going to get around the whole where are you from thing." Garcia

"Um, Dr. Reid?" Anderson was trying to get his attention. "You have a delivery." He was carrying a large, white box which he set down on the break room table.

Hotch came up to them. "We have a problem." He looked furious. "Conference room, now!"

They trailed everyone in. Hotch looked them all over. "I just got a call from Jessica. Someone sent an envelope by the house containing pictures of Jack taken over the past several days. Someone's been stalking him."

"I just got a call from Will." JJ said. "We got the same thing for Henry."

"And my Aunt Yvonne just called." Morgan spoke up. "She got the same thing with pictures of Anthony. What the hell is going on?"

"I don't know." Hotch replied. "I have two agents bringing Jessica and Jack back here and collecting the evidence. JJ, I assume DC Metro is doing the same, contact them and tell them that it's our issue. Morgan, call the Chicago field office…"

"Already done it," Morgan told him.

"Good. Did anyone else get any deliveries today?"

"Yeah," Spencer headed back down to collect that box. It was heavier than he had expected, considerably heavier, and almost awkward to carry up the stairs. "Since it was delivered here it's already been through the screening process, at this point forensics would be useless, at least on the outside." Just the same he donned gloved before he opened it. The outer wrapping revealed a white gift box. Inside that was a hard shell case of the kind used to store weaponry. He opened it carefully, just in case.

Inside was a trident.

Not just a trident. The handle was of a highly polished silver material, the head a highly polished gold, and it was ornately decorated with large gemstones. As he lifted it out it caught the light and sparkled in a way that….

Garcia gasped. "Is all that…real?"

Rossi noticed something in the case. He pulled out a card. "Jeweler in New York City and a high end one. That very well might be. In that case it's worth millions."

"Now what is that supposed to mean?" Morgan said.

"I don't know." Rossi replied. He reached for something else in the case. "But I know who to ask." He held up the second card he had found.

It was embossed with a white rose.

"Garcia, contact the jeweler, see if you can track the order for that thing. I'll go inform Strauss and ask her to contact Homeland again. Reid, you call Miss Abernathy…"

"I can't." Spencer interrupted.

"I gave her a cell phone." Garcia reminded him.

"Yeah, but there's no service up there," Spencer replied. "By now she could be miles from the cabin, she wouldn't hear the landline."

"We'll take pictures and head up there." Rossi said. "We'll call you with what we find."

"Good." Hotch nodded and they all got to work.

* * *

**Gideon's Cabin  
Outside the Shenandoah National Forest**

"Kat!" Spencer called up into the tree line again. "Kat!" He tried sending out a whistle, not her melodious one but at least a something. We might need a mockingjay, he thought.

"Maybe we should try smoke signals or something." Rossi muttered.

Spencer didn't blame him; they had been at it for a half hour already. There were miles of woods out there, they couldn't just go looking. "Kat!"

"You're scaring away all the game," said a familiar voice from above them. Spencer and Rossi both looked up to see Kat perched on the limb of a tree well above the ground, her hunting bow strapped to her back. As they watched she climbed down as nimbly as a squirrel. "I thought you weren't going to be back for a few days."

"Something happened." Rossi told her. They headed in to the cabin where they had left the file on the table. "Someone has made what we believe is a threat toward the children of some of our team members. We think it might be Snow. Does this mean anything to you?"

Kat took one look at the pictures and all the blood drained from her face. "Finnick's trident," she told them.

"Who?"

"Finnick Odair; he won the sixty-fifth games. He's from District Four, they're fishermen; a trident was his preferred weapon. The sponsors sent him one just like this while he was in the arena because he was so pretty."

"Because he was pretty?" Rossi asked.

"He paid them back." Kat informed him, the bitterness creeping back into his voice. "Snow forced him into prostitution."

"How old was he?"

"Fourteen."

"In puberty then." That Rossi could ask such questions so calmly was a mark of his experience, Spencer thought. His own stomach was already in knots. "Would Snow do that to someone younger?"

"He threatened my sister. She was twelve. And Gale's family, the littlest was only four." Kat shook her head. "I think he likes to target children. Now he's after yours." She looked over at Spencer. "And it's all because of me." She turned and headed for the door and the woods beyond.

"Stop that." Spencer took her shoulder to stop her and turn her. "You are not doing this. This is not your fault. Think a minute, how can he be doing this because of something you're doing, or not doing? He's hundreds of years away."

"No, he's just doing it to make me miserable! If I stay away from people then he can't hurt them to hurt me!"

He wasn't surprised by her anger. "So what, are you just going to run off in the woods and hide from everyone for the rest of your life?"

"If I have to!" Kat pushed him away. "I won't stand by and not do anything, not this time!"

Their argument was interrupted by a beeping noise. It took a moment for Spencer to realize what it was, and then he moved to the kitchen cabinets that concealed the security system. What looked like a SWAT team was coming down the long drive. He looked over at Rossi. "I thought Strauss got Homeland off our backs."

"I thought she did too. Run, get out of here. I'll cover for you. Go!"

Spencer paused just long enough to grab Gideon's old Kevlar vest off the hook before he hit the back door running. Kat was right on his heels, having paused to grab her bow and quiver. But it wasn't until they were well into the tree line that they stopped long enough for him to see which one. "I'm sorry." He gasped when they finally stopped. "You shouldn't have to do this again."

"It's all right." She told him, not even out of breath. "Now they're in my play yard." She cupped her bow to her cheek. "Wake up!"


	14. Chapter 14

Oh hell. Spencer reached over and grabbed Kat's arm to get her attention. "You can't kill them!"

She pulled her arm away and hissed. "Yes I can! It's them or us!"

He grabbed her again. "This is not a game, Kat!"

She pulled away harder. "Neither was that!"

"No!" She was desperate, that much was clear, on the verge of panic or a flashback or something, none of which could be good given that she had hunted humans for survival in this environment before. He lunged at her and pinned her by her shoulders against a tree. "This is not a self-defense situation! You're not a killer, Kat! This is not your time! Those are Federal Agents trying to do their job. They are not going to kill us and we are not going to kill them."

She glared at him for a long moment, fear and anger and confusion and something else warring in her eyes. "You still don't understand." She spit out at last. "I'm not worried about death. Dying's clean."

Oh. "I'm not going anywhere." He told her, calmly, gently, cupping her face in his hands. "I'm not going to leave you. They're not going to break me."

"That's the sort of thing Peeta would say." She jerked away from him and headed into the woods, but the fierce fire in her had died down.

"I'm not Peeta." He pulled on Gideon's Kevlar vest just in case and started in after her, carefully due to the unfamiliar terrain. I should start wearing boots, he thought. "Where are we going?"

"I noticed that. We need to find a water source but we don't have any iodine. There are waterfalls not far from here. The water will be cleanest there."

"We don't need to worry about being out here that long." He told her. "Once Rossi gets word back to the office the search will be called off. As soon the team gets here we can head in. No more than, um, four or five hours, I'd say. We should be in before dark."

"Right," her disbelief and distrust was clear. "You will be."

"Kat," he sighed. "You can't hide in the woods forever."

"Yes I can. The only reason why I didn't was because Peeta was still a prisoner the last time I had a chance."

"Okay." Was she making any sound as she walked? "I concede that you may have the skills to live in the woods. My point is that you don't have to."

"You think Snow's not going to try again? Tell me something Spencer." She paused to let him catch up. "If they had come for me and you hadn't been here, what would they have done to me?"

"I don't know." Unfortunately he could suspect. "Arrested you, probably, but I would have come when you called me and gotten you out."

"Assuming they let me call you." She started moving again. "And if it had just been you and I and Rossi hadn't been here?"

That she was even thinking in these terms showed the damage in her mental state. "They couldn't have made me disappear. The FBI takes issue with that sort of thing."

"And how long would it take them to save you? I know what happens when you're captured. They took two women when Peeta was captured; I know what happened to them. And to him, I saw the report of his injuries." For a moment the bitterness in her voice was tinged with fear. "I'd like to keep one dream intact. At least until I'm healthy enough."

Wait. "I thought you weren't thinking of that sort of thing."

She stopped and turned to look at him for a long moment. "I don't know what I'm thinking anymore. What's to stop Snow from trying again?"

"Your Snow? Well he's about to lose his contact. Our Snowe is going to be arrested for this; he'll lose the power he has to do this sort of thing."

"What's to stop him from contacting another ancestor? How is he doing this anyway?"

Spencer had been thinking about that. "I suspect that the problem is one of mass. The more mass you have to send the greater the amount of power required. It must have taken a huge amount to send a body back."

"Well, at that point the entire Capitol seemed like a giant battery powering all the traps."

"Exactly, whatever he's doing he would have had to do it during or after that battle, after you tripped the trap, so he probably doesn't have enough power at his disposal to send something the size of a person. But he could send something small, like a cell phone."

Kat nodded. "Or a commcuff, that's about the size of a watch."

"Exactly, some kind of communicator, and the signal between his office and the communicator would have a negligible amount of mass that would be easy to send. Then all he would have to do is look up someone who might listen to him, pick a point in history well before you got here, and start trying to convince him this was real; predicting events in advance, that sort of thing. Maybe reward him with ways to make a fortune so he would be more inclined to be helpful."

"Makes sense, so what's to stop him doing that with someone else?"

"Good question." It had been rolling around in the back of his mind for days now. "We have to stop Snow from communicating with anyone else."

She chuckled at him, "Stop Snow. It's not like we weren't trying everything we had to do that."

Something in her voice was not right. "Kat…"

She sighed. "I gave up, all right. I should have stayed there and kept fighting."

"Kat…"

"What if that's why he's able to keep doing this? What if the rebels lost because I gave up and then they all did?"

"Kat…"

She turned on him, for a moment her self-hatred lashed out. "I failed Spencer! I ran out on them! I gave up! Everything we worked for, everything we wanted, we finally had a chance to have our freedom and keep our children safe and I gave up!"

He caught up to her and caught her by her shoulders again. "Kat, this is not your fault. You gave everything you had."

"Bullshit!"

They walked on in silence for a time, until she tried to lead him over a damp log across a creek. Chuck Taylor sneakers weren't exactly the FBI usual, but after he had been beaten on the soles of his feet years ago comfortable shoes were hard to come by. The one thing they weren't good for was hiking in the damp woods. He slipped on the log and the sky spun and the next thing he knew he was falling...


	15. Chapter 15

"Damn it!" Instantly Kat was at his side, trying to help him up.

"I'm all right! I'm all right!" But she wasn't listening as she helped him, first to a sitting position and then up to his feet. He was all right until he tried to put weight on his bad leg and then his knee threatened to go. "Son of a…"

"Are you injured?"

"No, I don't think so. It's an old injury; I think I just aggravated it."

She actually chuckled a little. "Well, at least it's not blood poisoning. Come on, maybe you can walk it off." She got his arm around her shoulders and started helping him down the trail. "You're right, you're not Peeta. He's not as tall; it made this a lot easier."

They hobbled down the trail a while. Finally he had to ask the question he had been dreading. "Did you leave any children behind?"

"What?" Kat stopped and nearly dropped him.

"Earlier you said you were fighting to keep your children safe…."

"I meant all of our children, all the children from all the Districts. No, I don't have any kids. Even if I wanted them I'm only twenty, and it's not like I've had time." They started moving again. "I never would have done that if I had children. Prim was almost grown up."

Ah. "I'm sorry, I should have seen that." His inner profiler picked up a deeper truth there. "You don't want to have children?"

"So I can watch them die?"

"You said you were fighting to end the games."

"We are. That doesn't mean I trust it. Besides, I'm not exactly maternal."

"Yes you are."

"No, I'm not."

"You practically raised your sister. You told me about Rue. You're helping me here which is not something you have to do, that all has a basis in maternal instincts. Based on my observations you're about as maternal as they come."

She just chuckled at him, "Right."

"No really. I need to sit for a minute." She guided him over to a log well hidden in the brush. "Let me tell you about one of my favorite fictional characters, Ellen Ripley." He went on to sum up the basic plot of  _Alien_  and  _Aliens_. "So there was Ripley, on the  _Sulaco_  with nothing but an injured Marine and half an android to help her and this little girl and all of a sudden the alien unfolds itself and starts going after the girl again. Ripley runs into the main ship and slams the door."

"Oh, that's bullshit!" Kat had been entranced by this entire story, hanging on his every word. "She did not leave everyone behind!'

"Why not? She'd been haunted by this beast for half her life, she had nightmares about it regularly, she was terrified."

"I don't care! You don't do that to people. Well, maybe androids, and you said the Marine was safe in stasis, whatever that is, but she left the little girl behind. That is just not something you do!" She was rapidly going from shocked to pissed. "How could you even like a story like that?"

"Easy, easy, shhh," he caught her hand and pulled it against his chest. "She went to get a weapon. She came back out in this…battle armor getup and fought the alien until she won."

"Oh." Kat settled back next to him, but didn't pull her hand away. "Well, that was a sound tactic."

"The first thing you thought of was the little girl, wasn't it?" Spencer grinned at her. "See, maternal. Maybe like a grizzly bear, but maternal."

"What's a grizzly bear?"

"It's a predator that lives in the forest and eats just about anything. It's known for its nasty temper, but tends to avoid humans unless you threaten its cubs, then it attacks without mercy."

She thought about that and then smiled a true smile for the first time. "You know, I think I like that better than being a Mockingjay." With her smile he could see how young she really was, how there was still something innocent within her, even now. "That still doesn't mean I want to have kids. What about you, do you like kids?"

"Oh yeah, kids are great. I can't wait until you meet my godson, Henry. He's fantastic."

"Want to have them someday?"

"No."

"Why not?"

How to explain. "There's a sickness that runs in my family. That's what took my mother away from me. I don't want to risk passing it down."

"Ahhh, see it's the same thing."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is. My people just pass down death instead."

He didn't know what to say to that. "We should probably get moving again."

A little ways down the trail, when he was at least limping on his own, she spoke up again. "Do you have community homes here?"

"Have what?"

"Community homes, for kids whose parents have died or can't feed them, that kind of thing."

"Oh, yes. We call them foster homes, foster children." He looked over. "You should ask Morgan about them, he does a lot of work with those kids."

"Think any of them would like to learn to bow hunt?"

"Maybe," he stopped to lean against a tree for a moment. "Are you planning something for the future?"

"Maybe. Maybe I'm not as sick as you thought I was."

He considered a moment. Maybe protecting children already here was a very different sort of thing. "I accept that my initial assessment could have been wrong. You are far more resilient than I expected." He couldn't help it; she was just so damn alive out here. He reached up to gently cup her jaw and that spark flew between them once again.

She didn't push his hand away, but something sad came into her eyes. "Spencer, you weren't wrong." She told him. "I'm not ready. I know I haven't said good bye."

"I know." Resilient or not Kat still had a lot of grieving and healing to do. "I'll wait."

That seemed to stop her. She cocked her head to look at him all over again. "You will?"

"Yeah. I've waited this long." A beautiful, strong woman who might just come to love him and who happened to pass through time; he would wait as long as it took.

Something came over her just then. At that moment she was not pretty, she was not beautiful, she was as radiant as the sun. She took a deep breath as if she had just woken up, "All right."

And then the hammer of knowing gave a gentle whap to the inside of Spencer's head. Damn it. "I know how to stop Snow." He told her.

"How?"

"Well, not how exactly." She sagged a little and turned and kept walking. "I just realized we've been profiling the wrong person."

"Oh?"

"There's no point in profiling Snow, we can't get to him to stop him. What we need to do is profile the one person who can." They were close to the waterfall now; he could hear it, feel the moisture on his skin.

"Who?"

"You." When she stopped to look at him again he smiled, knowing she wouldn't see how much this was killing him. "You're the only one we know who ever had access."

"So what do you have to do?"

Before he could answer another voice was heard, "Federal Agents! Stop right there!"

 


	16. Chapter 16

Kat pushed him down behind some cover and nocked an arrow in her bow. Spencer reached over again, this time grabbing the limb of her bow, pulling her off aim. For a moment he swore the bow tried to twitch away from him. "You cannot kill them!" He whispered hard.

"I won't lose you!" She hissed back, the anger and desperation back in her eyes. "I can't lose someone else!"

"You won't lose me, I swear! I just have to go talk to them."

"Federal Agents! Come on out of there!"

"What?" Her eyes widened in shock. "Are you crazy?"

"I've been asking myself that ever since I met you." He tried to smile. "If they don't shoot we don't shoot, ever. That's the rule. Now cover me from here, don't come out until I call you." He started to move out of the brush.

"And if they shoot?"

"Then shoot back." He eased out into view, his hands in the air. Directly in front of him was a glorious waterfall cascading down a cliff face into an open pool which drained down a small river. And on the bank directly in front of those falls were two Homeland agents, their guns pointed directly at him. "FBI!" He called to them. "It's all right! Just let me get my badge."

"Bullshit you are." The older one replied. "Do not move!" He kept his gun trained on Spencer while the younger came over to check him.

"I don't know what they told you…." Spencer said once he was close enough.

"Domestic terrorists masquerading as FBI officers; nice trick, except that vest doesn't fit you right. Did you get it off the internet?"

"No, it was issued to a friend. My badge is in my pocket." Spencer let the man push him against a tree and frisk him, not worrying about the loss of a gun he never intended to use. "Snowe lied to you. He's facing an ethics investigation; I've been protecting the witness."

"Uh huh. Well, FBI, I'm sure you'll understand that we want to sort all that out back at base camp." Spencer heard the disturbing click of handcuffs opening.

"Drop it!"

Spencer pushed the Homeland agent off of him as both men spun around. Sure enough, Kat was standing there, well out of range of their handguns, pointing an arrow at the man with the gun. Flashback, he thought, or she's terrified of me being taken or maybe she just doesn't take orders worth a damn. But he didn't know what else he could do. So he put out his hands, made himself a bigger shield, and stepped between her and the agents. "Kat, put it down!" He called to her. "You're not a killer, remember. They didn't shoot first." He saw the confusion come into her eyes, even from here. "They're not going to hurt me, all right. As soon as the team gets here this is all going to be worked out. Now come on, put it down." She was wavering, hearing him at least. "Remember, there are no mockingjays in these woods."

Slowly, slowly, clearly wary of the two men, she lowered the point of the bow, unnocked the arrow and returned it to her quiver. Then her eyes found his. "No, just bears." Faster than he ever thought possible she pulled a different arrow out of her quiver, nocked it and fired.

The falls behind them exploded.

Fire and water flew thirty feet into the air. A shower of rocks landed in the pool. The shock wave knocked all three men off their feet. Spencer rolled into the soft bushes beside the trail. If they wanted to make us disappear, he thought, they just lost their chance. And the water is already putting out the fire, saving the forest. Not a bad tactic all around. Before the other two men had a chance to recover, he scrambled over and collected both weapons from the man who had frisked him, then kicked the third into the bushes. "I'm sorry." He told them both as he held them at gunpoint, "But until my team gets here I have to protect the witness."

"She's doing a damn good job of protecting herself." One of them told him as they slowly got to their feet.

"Well, she is the Mockingjay," said a voice from the bushes. They turned to see Director Julian Snowe step from the tree line. "Stand down, gentlemen. Dr. Reid is indeed with the FBI." The two men relaxed a trifle. "I'm afraid they've already called off the search. Your Agent Hotchner has taken over the command center down at base camp. You two head back, I'll walk Dr. Reid and the witness down. We need to talk"

The two men looked at each other. "Sir…" one of them started.

"That's an order."

"Yes Sir." The two agents headed out, the one stopping to pick his weapon out of the bushes, Spencer tossing over the other, all the while keeping his weapon pointed at Snowe.

When the two men were out of earshot Snowe smiled. "This doesn't end here you know. My great-great-grandson is remarkably resourceful and I am sure I am not his only ancestor."

There were more people in the woods. Spencer heard Morgan and JJ. They must have been close when the explosion was set off. "Julian Snowe, you're under arrest." He wasn't sure for what, but he'd leave that up to Hotch. "Drop your weapon and turn around slowly."

"I don't have a weapon." Snowe informed him as he slowly reached into his pocket. "Just a gift from my great-great –grandson," he pulled something from his pocket and tossed it at Spencer.

Keeping his gun trained on Snowe Spencer bent down and picked up the container. It was the kind of thing that might contain leftovers, opaque, with a sealed lid with a built-in strainer. And it was buzzing. An angry buzzing. And he could feel whatever was inside knocking against the walls of the container trying to get free.

As Spencer watched the lid was finally forced open. A large wasp flew out, it's body an unnatural golden color, it's translucent tail loaded with a sickly green venom. It was followed by three more.

They attacked.

He dimly heard Kat screaming as the world exploded in pain around him.


	17. Chapter 17

_He hurt._

_Everything hurt._

_He opened his eyes to see Charles Hankle glaring down at him. "This is what happens to sinners, boy."_

_He was strapped to a table, was slowly rotated until he could look at the large TV screen in front of him. "She told you what we do, didn't she?" A rich voice hissed as the room filled with the scent of roses._

_The screen flickered to life. He saw her standing on a stage, noble and frightened and so very young. He saw her overcome with acid fog. He saw her running from the fire. He saw her attacked. He saw her attack. He saw her kill. He felt her pain as she realized what she had done._

_He saw the soldiers in white armor pick her up from where she was mourning her fiancée, his body lying in the grass, looking up at the sky. No. No. Leave her alone. Please._

" _This will ease your pain." Tobias whispered as he pushed the plunger on the needle down. But it didn't. It intensified the pain, acid running through his veins to his heart and his head._

_He saw her in a clinic room, stripped of her clothing, her dignity and innocence near to being shattered, what looked like a hair stylist and a manicurist clucking over her as if she was a doll, uncaring as she tried to cover herself. There was nowhere to hide. "They're making her ready for her next role." The rich voice told him. "I handpicked her clients."_

_No._

_Men filed into her cell from all directions. Tony Canardo who filmed his tortures and rapes down in Florida. Ben Bradstone who burned out his victim's senses with acid when he was done. Jeremy Andrus who used electric shock and recorded his victims' screams. Francis Goehring who kept a medieval torture chamber in his closet. One after another they all filed in. She tried to back away, to cover herself, to run…_

_No. No._

" _She can't run from the entire country." Gary Brendan Michaels hissed as he leaned over his shoulder, watching the screen with some amusement. The screen cut to pictures of masses of people watching along with him, laughing, enjoying themselves as they watched. "You know what they're going to do to her. They've already done it to her mind." He looked over at Spencer tied helpless to the table. "Shall I show you?"_

_No. No no no…_

**Washington Medical Center**  
Secure wing  
Washington DC

Spencer opened his eyes and looked around. He wasn't surprised at all to see Morgan in a chair by the window, book balanced in his lap, Jell-o cup in hand. "Did you leave me any this time." He rasped out.

"Ah. Good morning sunshine." Morgan grinned and set his book aside. "Did you enjoy your trip?"

"No." Trip. Of course. He had been dreaming, hallucinating. It had been so vividly real. Well, a profiler has a lot of things to hallucinate about. Now I need another vacation, he thought. "What time is it?" He asked.

"About two," Morgan replied. "A better question would be what day is it."

"What day is it?"

"Thursday."

"Thursday?" He'd lost the better part of two…no, three…days to the attack. He tried to sit up, but everything still hurt. He looked down to find several welts the size of tennis balls on his body. "What were those anyway?"

"Kat called them tracker jackers, some kind of genetically engineered wasps. According to the initial reports out of a lab Emily found, all very discreet, the venom is a mixture of some kind of nervous system irritant, wasp toxin and LSD. And that was four of them. Oh and Emily said the next time she came to town she was going to spank you for getting into trouble again."

"She has to catch me first. I'd love to see those reports. How many times was I stung?" He tried to sit up and the world started spinning.

"Easy." Morgan came over and helped him settle back down. "Ten. Apparently the Capitol released those things into the wild as a bio-weapon. We told the medics that you were having an allergic reaction. Thankfully Kat was able to point out a plant that they use as a natural remedy for the stings, something called Plantago. According to the docs a drug called Indomethacin contains the same active ingredient, you've been on that and anti-histamines since you got here. Now that you're awake they're going to get you off of them."

"That explains the dizziness." That was a potent mixture. Thankfully it was non-opiate; he didn't have to worry about re-addiction. Wait. "Where's Kat."

"Right here," Morgan twitched back the curtain in the room to reveal Kat sleeping in the other bed. "She wouldn't leave, she wouldn't eat, she wouldn't sleep, she insisted that more than three or four stings would either drive someone insane or kill them outright. She said that was the same stuff they used on her fiancée, she was afraid you would go the same way. I told her that if you were going to lose it you would have by now and that there's a difference between being treated in a hospital versus her mother's kitchen table, but she just kept getting more and more desperate. Finally she started taking it out on everyone and the docs decided to sedate her for her own good."

"Good. Thank you, she doesn't need that kind of stress anymore." She was so beautiful when she slept. You could see that she really was still young, still so pure. Maybe they hadn't destroyed everything…..

"No kidding. For the record your girl there has multiple injuries that match up with her story. She's been to war." Morgan was quiet a moment. "I have to ask, when you were falling out of it you said you'd felt this before?"

"Yeah, but not like this. Tobias Hankel cut his…." The hammer of knowing suddenly whapped Spencer so hard his head rang.

"What?" Morgan asked.

"I know how to stop Snow." Spencer sat up again and tried to ignore the swirling as he tried to get out of bed.

"Whoa." Morgan came over and eased him back down. "You have two hundred and seventy-five years, remember. Give yourself a day."

* * *

Later on that night he awoke again, this time to a now familiar weight on his chest. "Hey." He said quietly, brushing the hair from her face so he could see her as he had every night since they first met.

"Hey." Kat's arms tightened around him. "You're still here."

"I told you." He deliberately calmed his breathing so she could better hear his heartbeat. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Good." She burrowed her nose in his chest. "You still smell like parchment. It's all that reading."

He chuckled a little. He knew what he had to do now, and it was killing him. "I dreamed of you."

"While you were out?" That was worry in her voice.

"No, not once. Before. From when I was young."

"Say the first day of kindergarten and I will hit you."

"No, before that, a girl from another place, another time, someone strong and confident that I could spend a lifetime trying to know and never know it all." He was quiet a moment. "You know, I gave up at one point."

"Did you?"

"Yeah. There was too much. I lost my parents when I was young, kind of like you did and went through a lot when I was in high school, college. Then there was all the madness and death at work. It just never seemed to end, there was no escape. Finally someone showed me a way out and I took it and ran. Into a bottle, not down an alley, but I still ran."

She thought about that a long moment. "You're still here." She pointed out eventually.

"Yeah, I am. I was given another chance."

"So you found something to…."

She didn't have to finish it. "No. Not before now." He hadn't had anything particularly spectacular to live for at that point. "But someone pointed out that I was letting everyone down; that they could have been hurt or killed because I wasn't there. That they needed me." To this day he still remembered the guilt and shame he'd felt in that New Orleans bar. "He gave me a chance to go back and make it right." The loneliness had not abated, nor the misery and exhaustion of carrying so much for so long. But running, getting high, hadn't solved any of that either. It had just added the guilt of running out on the team and the shame of giving up. At least, with a second chance, that had lifted.

Her running down that alley hadn't solved any of her problems either.

Kat lifted her head to look at him. She knew where he was going with this, what he was asking of her. She couldn't know that in the end it would only be his heart that would be destroyed. "Yes." She said, without any hesitation at all. Then she nestled down against him like it might be the last time.

It might be, he thought, "All right."


	18. Chapter 18

Two days later Julius Snowe was led in to the interrogation room and placed at the far end of the table. "Hello Dr. Reid," he said calmly. "Do we need to wait for my lawyer?"

"It's your right," Spencer shrugged, "If you want him to know about this." He reached into one of the cases on the table and pulled out the helmet from Kat's armor.

"Ah." Snowe smiled, "Perhaps not."

Spencer opened the second case, revealing Kat's bow and quiver. He answered the knock at the door to reveal Morgan with a box in his arms, and Kat at his side. She joined the men in the interrogation room, standing at the other end of the table, just looking at Snowe.

"So this is the fabled Mockingjay." Snowe smiled. "I expected someone more….evocative."

Spencer ignored him. He was too busy rooting around in the box of personal possessions Snowe had had on him when he was arrested. After a moment he found what he was looking for, and slid the object that looked so much like a cell phone across the table. "Call him." He then turned to the file that had been on top of the box.

Snowe didn't bother to ask who, he simply dialed. A moment later the phone was answered by a rich, deep voice. "Ah, Julius, I was waiting for you to call. Did you manage to deliver your gift?"

While they talked Spencer had turned to the mirror hanging on the wall. He pulled a whiteboard marker from his pocket and began to work out the calculations. He already knew they could be worked, but he had not written them down, not brought them into existence before now. His eyes were caught by movement at the far end of the table. Kat had gone pale, rigid with fear, but Morgan had her, was calming her down. He turned back when Snowe cleared his throat. "Yes, I did Coriolanus. In fact she's here now."

"Ahhh. The Mockingjay; so nice to have a chance to speak to you once more."

Kat took a deep breath, "President Snow."

"We only have a few moments, I'm sure but I want you to know that you are missed, especially by the rebellion. It seems that losing their figurehead has taken all the wind out of their sails. We've already re-taken most of the Districts and expect to have Thirteen in a few days. I have yet to see Mr. Mellark or your mother or sister or the rest of your little rebel squad, but I'm sure Mr. Hawthorn and Mr. Odair would send their regards were they not sharing a gallows at the moment."

All the while Spencer had been writing, the mirror was slowly filling up with equations and diagrams. He almost had the last detail. But when he heard what Snow said he quickly turned to Kat. "Don't answer that." He told her, catching her eyes, giving her just that much more strength to hold on.

"Julius. You didn't tell me we had company." President Snow intoned. "May I ask who I'm speaking to?"

"My name is Dr. Spencer Reid." Spencer replied, calmly. "I'm with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the Federal Bureau of Investigation."

"A pleasure to meet you Dr. Reid," Snow sounded almost jovial. "Behavioral Analysis, I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, I'm not familiar with your work."

"We hunt down serial killers like you." He was so close to the solution here.

Snow chuckled. "You believe I'm a serial killer? Why, I'm a patriot, defending our way of life."

"You've authorized and encouraged the deaths of five hundred and seventy four children in the course of your twenty-five year rule as dictator. In our books that makes you a serial killer, which means I am duty bound to try to stop you."

Snow laughed harder. "And how do you plan to do that, Dr Reid? You cannot reach me, you don't have the technology."

"I don't need the technology, I have a profile."

"A profile? I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage again."

"A profile. In this case a detailed analysis of a person's behavior that allows us to manipulate the circumstances around that person until the behavior changes in the way we want it to go."

"Ah. And you believe you know me well enough to create a profile that will change the circumstances around me, do you?"

"No." Spencer replied. "Not you." He met Kat's eyes once again. Her strength, her resolve, once again she was as radiant as the sun. "Did you ever hear the phrase 'every new discovery changes the course of history'? What they really mean is that every new discovery chances the course of the future"

"And you're going to change our Mockingjay's path by bringing something new into existence." Snow sounded more careful, like he'd spotted a snare in the brush. "Be careful Dr. Reid, you could create a paradox."

"Actually I intend to create a paradox."

"My scientists tell me you can shatter everything that way."

"I don't believe so. My math says otherwise." Ah, yes, that was the bit that wanted shifting. Spencer wrote the rest of the equation on the mirror. Now it was just a question of duration…..

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to stop you from doing that Dr. Reid." Snow warned him, "Which I will as soon as I hang up this phone."

"I'm afraid you don't have time, President Snow. I have two hundred and seventy-five years to work with." He took one last look at Kat, blessing the memory that would never let him forget her. Then he turned back to the board.

That was it….

"Where as you…"

He wrote one last reaction.

"…are going to lose..."

He just had to balance it.

"...now."

Spencer wrote one last number on the board.

The phone went dead

And Kat's eyes rolled back as she dropped to the floor.


	19. Chapter 19

"Kat," he dropped down beside her as Morgan got Snowe out of there. She was out cold; her pulse was too fast, her skin too pale and almost too cool. "Kat!" No, it wasn't supposed to happen like this, Spencer thought, not like this. Oh please. "Katniss, please!" Don't die, he thought, anything else but please don't die.

She didn't die.

After a moment he noticed her eyes moving briskly behind her eyelids as her brain fired off. For what felt like an eternity he held her there, waiting for any other sign. At last she groaned, rolled her head, opened her eyes and looked up at him. "Spencer," she moaned. "What happened?"

"Paradox," he told her, as a thousand pounds were lifted off his shoulders. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Standing here talking to President Snow on the phone. But he wasn't making any sense…"

"No, what's the last thing you remember before we met in the desert?"

"I was, um, in 2. We were trying to come up with a way to take out the Capitol's central command. I was talking to Haymitch on the phone…I…I don't remember anything after that." She frowned. "Why don't I remember anything after that?"

That was a good question. He quickly evaluated all the possible variables. "Um, I think…I may…have split you in two."

"Two? How?"

"Um, by means of a temporal paradox; I didn't expect it to happen this way." He held up a hand to stop her. "It's better not to think about things like that, they just give you a headache. Just know that somehow, you're still there. You never abandoned your friends or your cause. You went on fighting. And given how quickly Snow got off the phone, I believe you won."

As he watched the guilt and shame that had been lingering in her eyes slowly dissolved into wonder. "Snow's gone." She repeated. "We won." He nodded. "And I'm still there for them. But I'm still here, so…"

"No." He sighed. "I could give you back to them, but I couldn't give them back to you. I'm sorry; I still don't have a way to send you back. I thought this would, but... I don't think you'll ever see them again." He watched the grief fill her eyes, but this time it was different. This time it was pure, untainted by guilt. This grief would heal clean.

He pulled her into his arms and held her as her eyes filled with tears.

Spencer Reid's apartment  
Washington DC

Three years later

"I'm home!"

That had been a long and nasty case. Spencer was very glad that they were all taking tomorrow off, making it a three day week-end, they needed it. He dropped the mail on the counter as he walked into the living room and surveyed the small pile of luggage there.

For the past three years he and Kat had been more or less living together. She'd spent her first few months up at the cabin, gently acclimating to the current time period, but once winter set in she'd moved down into the city with him so as not to be completely isolated. When spring came around again they started spending every week-end up there so she could roam the woods and hunt to her heart's content.

While in the city she had started therapy, mostly with Garcia since there was no good proof of her being from out of time and neither of them wanted her treated as delusional. She'd worked through her grief enough to be able to join Garcia's group, which had helped immensely. She'd also started working through the trauma of what was, for all intents, a childhood spent in a prison camp and a tour of duty in a war. While the nightmares continued the flashbacks had eased off and, perhaps more importantly, she had begun being able to make solid plans for a future. Pot roast tomorrow night became a concert Thursday night became vacation next month and finally became going back to school for her GED and eventual plans to go to university.

And, when they were ready, they took a suggestion from Morgan. These days they spent two Saturdays a month with Jason and Nathan, two kids from the Big Brothers program who were learning to love the woods, nature and science as much as he and Kat did. He looked over the bow on the table, the one he'd bought her to commemorate their first time out with the boys, their first big step into a possible larger future. The bow with the grizzly bear carved in the riser. She'd been utterly tickled.

Therapy had also included a healthy diet for the first time in her life, which had added three inches to her height by way of sleek, strong legs and an impressive set of curves, which he admittedly admired when she came into the room. He was still a gentleman, nothing had happened between them, not while she was healing, but he was not dead. "Hey," she said as she came over to hug him hello. "Glad you're home, that sounded like an awful one."

"It was. Are you ready to go? I want to head out tonight." Not that he was looking forward to the drive, but the peace of the cabin was calling to him. "We can get take-out along the way."

"Not a chance, I have the cooler packed and I will cook when we get up there."

He chuckled. Somehow, even though he was still paying for Mom and now supporting two people, thanks to what she called her District 12 ways they were coming out ahead every month, far more than he had expected He had a feeling that her refusal to eat take-out, once his life's blood, had something to do with that. "All right, if you insist."

"I do."

"I'm going to go grab a shower and change before we go."

"Okay."

It wasn't until he got out of the shower and became aware of the dead silence coming from the living room that he realized his mistake.

He stepped out to find her staring at the journal in her hand in shock. It was a courtesy copy that had come in the mail today. "Spencer…" She started.

"I know."

"Is this…?"

"Yes."

She looked at him, her eyes wide. "You gave him back to me."

He sighed. "Yes."

"Why?"

"So you would make a different decision later, one that would lead to Snow being stopped."

"Bullshit. You could have done that a hundred ways." He watched her remember. "You said you didn't expect it to happen this way, you expected I would go back. What did you mean?"

"I…I expected everything would disappear. That's why I had it all there with us." Disappear like it had never been in their time.

"Disappear. Including me?"

"Yes."

"So you gave him back to me, knowing you might lose me forever." The realization finally came together. "Why?"

"I told you, so…"

"No. Why?"

He just looked at her for a long moment, the shell he'd put around his heart to protect her while she healed finally cracking away. "Why did you volunteer?" Why did you risk everything to protect your sister?

He watched her slowly understand, "Even then?"

Over the years since they had last had contact with the future she had grieved and healed. They had carefully, patiently built a life. They had slowly grown together. But he had loved her since the first time he saw her, since the night she fell out of the desert sky. "I told you, I dreamed of you."

Without another word she stepped easily into his arms. Her smile was as radiant as the sun.

And they went into the future together.


	20. Chapter 20

**Epilogue**

**District 13**   
**Medical archive**   
**275 years later**

**Primrose Everdeen**

Prim groaned. She'd been down in this dim cavernous room all day, utterly ignoring the schedule imprinted on her arm. It didn't matter, not now. Nothing mattered, not classes, not meals, not recreation time, nothing. Not until they found a solution to this.

It just wasn't fair.

Katniss had given so much to her, to the cause, to everyone. First she volunteered for the Games in her place. Then she let President Snow force her into making a choice between Peeta and Gale before she was ready. Then she had to give over all of her dreams of a wedding so the Capitol people would be entertained by choosing everything for her. Then, of course, she was sent back in the arena and any hope of a future at all was taken away. And then the rebels pulled her from the arena and in retaliation; their home had been bombed out of existence. She couldn't even go home!

And look at her now, no home, no woods and no choices. Even she could see that Gale was changing. He had always hated the Capitol, but now the ability to take revenge was making him into something hard and cold and cruel. He wasn't the kind, gentle big brother she had grown up with. He even scared her sometime now.

And then there was Peeta. He'd loved her sister so hard, had done so much, even risking his own life to give the warning that saved her life and Buttercup. And now he was so broken, trapped inside his own mind, unable to reach the woman he loved. It just wasn't fair, there had to be a way to help him!

To that end she'd been down here poking through all these binders and books, trying to find something, anything that might be a help. She didn't know what it all meant but she had a list of vocabulary words to look for in the titles, and the more of them in the title the better. But there were centuries' worth of papers down here; this was going to take forever.

As she stretched the light snapped off. A moment later the safety lamps that signaled night came on by the floor in a gentle glow. She reached over and snapped on the desk lamp, an old one not wired into the main system. One more binder, she thought, and then I'll come back to it tomorrow. Thank goodness for paper, they said everything electronic had been lost in the first war.

She was flipping through this one back to front, just for something different, when one line of the closely packed text caught her eye. She stopped and read it again. Her heart started pounding. She read it a third time, just to be sure, and then turned and looked at the title, "The use of opiates in the treatment of psychosis induced by a combination of enhanced interrogation techniques and exposure to lysergic acid diethylamide." She read carefully, out loud just to be sure, "By Dr. S. Reid." She double checked her list; yes that title had every word she was looking for, every one!

But…she checked the cover again. It had been written almost three hundred years ago; this couldn't be the answer, could it?

She turned back to that last line, holding her breath, almost convinced it would have disappeared.

_Dedicated to the Mockingjay, who truly has no idea the effect she can have. – SR_

How?

Prim didn't know, but at the moment she didn't care. This had to be what would heal Peeta.

She carefully marked the page in the binder and then practically flew up the stairs. She had to go show the doctors and then she had to go tell Haymitch so he could call Katniss and tell her.

She had to go give her sister hope.


End file.
